Shadow Truths
by SorceressCirce
Summary: A collection of one-shots and drabbles written as gifts or because they were simply stories that needed to be told. Could be any setting, any pairing, all within the Twilight universe.
1. College Days for Ahizelm

_**A/N:** These drabbles were written for my ficwife **ahizelm** based on a prompt she gave me when I was feeling particularly down and stuck. I fell a little bit in love with these boys and hope you will, too. Special thanks to **ahizelm**, **EchoesOfTwilight**, **kimberlycullen10**, **naelany**, and **theladyingrey42** for prereading and being amazing sources of support, especially during all the real life fail I've had lately. Love you ladies!_

_The title for this collection is taken from a Neil Gaiman quote -_ _"Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and adventures are the shadow truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes and forgotten."_

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**EPOV**

**-=Camera=-**

The clicking is like a mosquito's buzzing – annoying and fucking incessant. My little sister Alice lowers the camera and grins.

"Why don't you put that down and help me out?" I ask wryly, stepping into the tiny dorm room to deposit more boxes in the center of the floor.

"It's just so exciting! This is a whole new life for you!"

I roll my eyes but smile as Alice hugs me fiercely. She murmurs, "I'm proud of you for telling Mom and Dad, Edward."

My smile grows as I feel the sense of freedom – and anxiety – from finally coming out.

**-=Trepidation=-**

My eyes betray me, constantly shifting to study my new roommate even as I try to pay attention to Alice – and all four parents in the room.

From the moment his seductive voice drawled his name, I'd known I was in trouble… and then I'd gotten my first look at him.

Tall, slender, toned. Messy blond hair. Eyes that I should really, _really_ avoid looking at because they make me think of his lips and where I want them…

"Edward?" My mother's voice cuts through my thoughts, and I flush crimson. "Do you and Jasper need anything before we go?"

**-=Silence=-**

We're standing awkwardly on opposite sides of the room when the door closes, leaving us alone. We can hear people talking and laughing, furniture banging into walls, lamps breaking.

But not here.

Here, silence reigns. My palms are suddenly sweaty, my throat parched, and I am sure I could not say a single word. Surely not all new roommates are this… uncomfortable.

_It's me._

It has to be me. It's the knowledge I hold close to my chest – the knowledge that I'm gay and that I'm most definitely attracted to Jasper.

And to think I'd thought this would be easy.

**-=Exhaustion=-**

Jasper hangs up his phone and flops down on the couch, shooting me a crooked grin. "Pizza'll be here in an hour-and-a-half. Said it's slow when the dorms open."

He shrugs, and I swallow, trying to figure out how to make it through one night with him, much less an entire year. The thought is exhilarating and terrifying at once.

The afternoon wasn't so bad because we were unpacking, arranging the room until we were both satisfied, but now there's… nothing. No distractions, nothing left to do.

"I don't know about you, but I'm fucking beat."

I nod, still mute.

**-=Wonder=-**

"Finally," Jasper mutters, tossing the remote onto the couch as he goes to answer the door. He pulls his jeans up by the belt loops, and I find myself staring at his ass.

While we waited, we watched TV and made random comments about whatever was on. I still know nothing about him, and I wonder if he is even curious about me.

He hasn't asked anything. Not even my last name.

He hands me the pizza box and grabs napkins and two Cokes from our makeshift kitchen.

"Come on." He plops down on the floor, grinning up at me.

**-=Anxious=-**

Jasper wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and my eyes follow the motion, lingering on his lips. They're just full enough and look so soft. I wonder if they'd feel different than the girls I've kissed.

I hope so, somehow… and I hope I get to find out.

He wipes his hands on his jeans, clearing his throat. He looks anxious, making me realize that I've been staring at him too long.

I look away, drinking the last of my Coke. _Fucking idiot._

"Edward, I… I think I need to tell you something. Don't freak out, okay?"

**-=Zealous=-**

"You're gay?" I can hear confused disbelief in my voice as I say perhaps the dumbest thing that has ever left my lips.

"Yes." The single word is hard and cold, matching the flint of Jasper's eyes as his jaw clenches.

It takes me a moment to realize the misunderstanding, and then I'm on my knees, my voice far too fervent as I say, "Jasper, me too. I'm gay."

I catch myself reaching for his hands and snatch my own back. _Just because he likes men doesn't mean he wants _you_, asshole._

But then he smiles, and my heart speeds.

**-=Harmony=-**

"You're sure you're not fucking with me?" There's something in his voice – vulnerability? Fear?

"Jasper," I answer quietly, "I swear I'm not fucking with you." I resist the urge to add a middle school comment about how much I want to, but it's there in my head.

We're both smiling stupidly, but it's too quiet, and all my half-formed questions are making me crazy, so I ask the first one. "Is there… I mean, why did you tell me?"

"Oh, I…" Jasper licks his lips, glancing around the room before looking back at me. "Did you know you're fucking gorgeous?"

**-=United=-**

Jasper seems calm, but I'm a bundle of nerves. My skin feels like it's vibrating, beginning where his knee is pressed against my thigh.

He is propped on one arm as he reaches his other hand up to cup my cheek. "You've really never kissed a guy?"

I shake my head, returning to my mute state with my heart in my throat.

"Do you want to?" he whispers, and I can feel his breath brush across my lips like unseen fingertips.

"Please," I manage, seeing him smile before my eyes close.

His lips are firm, his stubble prickly. I moan.

**-=Finally=-**

I lie in my bed, staring at the bottom of Jasper's mattress in stark disbelief.

I'm so goddamn hard that I'm literally aching, but it's a small price to pay for the hours of feeling Jasper's body on top of mine, his hips rocking rhythmically as our stiff cocks brushed through the thick fabric of our jeans.

My lips are raw and feel swollen as I run my fingers over them, seeking out every shred of evidence that tonight was _real_.

"See you tomorrow, Edward," he murmurs, his voice carrying a promise.

"Good night, Jasper." I close my eyes, smiling.

**-=Time=-**

I wake to a thud and open my eyes to see the back of Jasper's legs. I feel my cheeks heat as I stare while he walks across the room and starts coffee. He is wearing boxers and a t-shirt like me, but I have a feeling I look nothing like _that_.

My nerves are back at once as I wonder what the hell to say. Last night everything made sense, but what if he was just lonely and afraid?

He turns, yawning, and sees me watching. "It's fucking early. Got room in that bed for me?" he says gruffly.

**-=Question=-**

"Hey," Jasper says, and I glance up. A month has passed, filled with classes and papers and making out.

"Why don't we ever go out?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" I answer, putting my laptop on the end table. I know exactly what he means, though, because it's been haunting me.

"Out." He motions toward the door. "Restaurants, movies… other people?"

"Oh," I answer blankly.

"Are you…" He pauses, licking his lips. "Are you ashamed of me?"

Hearing my own fear in his voice, seeing it in his eyes, breaks me.

"God, no." I'm up instantly, reaching for him.

**-=Comfort=-**

His lips are soothing against mine, our touches healing the pain we caused by never talking about _us_.

"You're mine," Jasper whispers, his hand slipping inside my boxers to squeeze my bare ass. "My boyfriend," he continues, and I can't stop the smile on my face.

"And you're mine," I answer. It's liberating, somehow, being claimed by him; as he kisses down my bare chest, I know I want to be his in every sense. "Jasper?"

"Mmm," he hums, his breath hot on my abdomen.

Not knowing how to ask, I feel ridiculous as I whisper, "Make love to me?"

**-=Future=-**

My hands shake as I start to tear the condom wrapper, and Jasper catches my wrists. "Hey," he says gently. "Are you sure?"

I look into his eyes, seeing intelligence and support and love, and I know that's what I want my future to look like. I nod, my hands growing sure as I sheath his cock.

He inhales sharply, his eyelids fluttering when I stroke him. I love that neither of us has ever done this – it is ours alone. He is attentive and thorough, making sure I am ready, and then we are one.

"I'm yours," he whispers.

**-=Christmas=-**

"Don't open it until Christmas morning," I remind him as we trade wrapped gifts.

He nods; his grin fades as he puts the box on our tiny refrigerator. He was heading out the door, so he's already wearing his massive coat, but he shrugs out of it. It falls to the floor as he yanks me close, wrapping his arms around me. "How many weeks?" he asks again.

"Four," I answer, not trusting myself to say anything more.

"I'm going to fucking miss you," he whispers before kissing me passionately. "I love you, Edward."

I smile. "I love you, too."

**-=Ring=-**

I spent most of my life in this bedroom, but it doesn't feel like home. It's too constricting, too lonely.

Jasper's gift – a new phone – is charging on my nightstand as I flip through the sketchbook he gave me. I smile, seeing myself and our dorm again and again.

The phone rings, startling me out of wistful thoughts of Jasper's lips. The text is from him, and I open it, finding a picture of his right hand with the Claddagh band I gave him, heart turned in.

His message is everything and nothing at once.

_I love it. And you. _

**-=Resolution=-**

Mercifully, Alice goes back inside, leaving me to stand on the balcony. It is clear for once, the sky over Forks filled with stars. I reluctantly pull on the coat she brought out, letting the sounds of my parents' party wash over me.

As the countdown to midnight begins, I find myself wondering what Jasper is doing in Portland right now. I would give anything to be with him in my narrow, uncomfortable bed, laughing and kissing.

I'm not one for resolutions, but I make one this New Year. "We have to do something about this summer," I whisper aloud.

**-=Hunger=-**

I can feel it growing stronger the closer I get to Seattle – the need to touch Jasper, to taste him. My foot on the gas pedal is heavy, my hands on the steering wheel restless.

He got back to school yesterday, so I know that in less than an hour, we will be together again. I am antsy, excited and nervous at once. What if something changed for him?

I can't take the uncertainty, can't fathom living with Jasper while not _being_ with him.

I take a steadying breath, trying to rein in my fears and focus on my desire.

**-=Feast=-**

My smile is impossible to contain as Jasper kisses me hungrily, his lips roaming my neck and chest before returning to mine. My eyes drift continually to the ring on his right hand. It was the first thing I saw other than his excited blue eyes.

His nude body moves over mine, hard planes and smooth skin that have become my haven. I reach between us, taking us both in hand, and he groans, biting his bottom lip.

"Please, Edward…" he whispers. "I need to feel you."

Hours pass with soft caresses and rolling hips, and I am whole again.

**-=Salve=-**

"You all packed, babe?" Jasper murmurs, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my neck. I'm staring at my suitcase, packed for spring break tomorrow.

Silently miserable, I nod, reaching up to tangle my fingers in his hair.

He squeezes me tighter, then says, "Come talk to me for a sec?"

We move to the couch, where he begins, "I told my parents I'm not coming home this summer. A week is bad enough…" He caresses my cheek. "Much less two fucking months. I'm getting an apartment." I smile, and his next words stun me. "Move in with me?"

**-=Flight=-**

"Fuck," I curse as my fingers bang into the concrete wall of the stairwell.

"Damn…sorry, babe," Jasper's muffled voice answers from the other side of the couch several steps below. We lift again, shifting and maneuvering until we reach our floor.

Despite their reservations about our age, my parents are here helping us move into our apartment. Jasper's parents will arrive in about an hour, and I can't help but think about how eerily similar today is to the day we met.

Jasper starts to open the door, but I stop him. Our lips meet in this one perfect moment.

**-=Mystery=-**

Silence surrounds us, broken only by our own plaintive gasps and shuddering breath. Gone are the noises of the dorm, gone the anxious feeling of being caught.

Jasper's tongue is leisurely as it licks tantalizingly along my length. Moonlight through the blinds falls on his face in lines, letting me focus now on his hooded eyes, now on his parted lips.

He is breathtaking.

He pushes me back onto our bed and settles between my legs, his strong hands gripping my thighs as he licks and sucks and nibbles.

My fingers tangle in his hair.

I marvel at his love.

**-=Fuzzy=-**

I flip through the pictures from our trip to Hot Springs Cove, pausing on one of Jasper diving into the ocean. The image is blurry, his movement too quick for the camera, but I see him clearly.

His hair was plastered to his head and he laughed like a child, splashing and dunking me. My finger traces his form as I smile wistfully.

The summer has passed too quickly, a haze of work and dates and quiet nights at home. I am not ready for classes to start tomorrow, but like the camera couldn't hold Jasper, I can't stop time.

**-=Leonine=-**

His growl is guttural, feral, and I jump out of my seat, my eyes wide as Jasper appears out of nowhere and grabs a fistful of the guy's pirate costume, yanking him around.

_Holy fuck._

I've never seen this side of him, never seen raw fury in his eyes. "He said _no_." Jasper's low voice is threatening.

The guy stumbles away, his fake cutlass clattering to the ground. I pay no attention to him leaving as I watch Jasper calming himself.

"Sorry," he mutters finally. "Just… his fucking hands…" He shakes his head, trailing off, and I kiss him hard.

**-=Twist=-**

My chin is on Jasper's bare stomach as I play idly with the ring on his right hand, resting just in front of my face. We are spent, basking in the contentment that follows the union of our bodies.

"Hey," he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair. "I have something for you."

"You do?" I lift my head, surprise in my voice.

He nods and reaches into the nightstand, rummaging before lying back with his fist closed. He opens his hand, revealing a titanium band carved with simple Celtic knots. "Will you wear it?"

My smile is my answer.

**-=Permanent=-**

I carry the last of the boxes into the home we just purchased together, setting them down before Jasper's arms snake around my waist. He kisses my sweaty neck, making me smile as I lean back against him. My hand covers his, my fingers running along the ring I gave him eight years ago, now worn on his left hand.

He refused to let me replace it when we married, saying it held more sentiment than anything new I could give him.

I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"Welcome home," he murmurs, kissing me tenderly.

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_**A/N:** There are still a couple of days left of **Fandom Gives Back**! Please check out the great deals there and make some donations for a fantastic cause!_

_Also, JOotG readers - I must apologize but I'm running a little behind thanks to some unforeseen complications with the surgery. My current plan is to have the chapter up within the next week. I am so sorry - thank you for your patience.  
_


	2. Parley for CaptainJezebel's Birthday

**_A/N:_**_ This was written a little bit ago for CaptainJezebel's birthday. Jezzie is absolutely amazing to me, and I wanted to do a little something for her - and now I wanted to share it with everyone else who might be interested :)_

_It's Edward/Jasper. Please don't read if you don't like that sort of thing._

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_**Sweltering**

Licking my lips, I taste my own sweat as I take a break, leaning against the turnstile. I run my fingers through my damp hair, doing my best not to look at him again.

It's no use.

My eyes are drawn to the new guy. Jasper.

He just started today, but he's a natural. He teases the kids, charms the old ladies… flirts with the women.

It's the last bit that has me clenching my jaw, reminding myself that he's impossible. Even if he _was_ gay, he wouldn't want me anyway.

I'm awkward in every way, especially compared to him.

**Almost**

"Masen!" My spine stiffens when I hear Emmett's voice. When I glance at him, he winks.

_Don't do this. Please._

I almost think he's going to listen to my silent plea.

But he doesn't.

Of course.

"A skeleton's stuck again. Take Hale down and show him how to fix it." I glare at him, but he doesn't budge. Nothing erases the shit-eating grin on his face.

I turn to Jasper, my cheeks flaming as I stammer, "C-come on. I'll s-show you."

If Emmett picked up on my interest, I know I can't be hiding it well.

_Kill me now, please._

**Dark**

Any time I take the dark, twisting passages beneath the ride, I always half-pretend that I'm not just some nineteen-year-old nerd working at Disneyland but that I'm a hero out on a grand adventure – that what I'm doing actually matters.

I can't do that this time.

I'm intensely aware of Jasper lurking just behind me. His sneakers scuff the concrete floor, and his breath is heavy and hot. I shiver, relishing each time it brushes my neck when he gets too close.

I find myself manufacturing reasons to slow so it happens more often.

I don't dare try anything else.

**Excite**

"Oh, I see it!" Jasper's voice is a hushed whisper, letting me know he feels the same strange oppression I do.

We're surrounded by animatronics and weird lighting, but it just makes him that much more beautiful. I hear the splash that lets me know a boat's coming, though, and I reach to stop him from stepping out.

His eyes snap to my hand on his arm and then to my face. I should let go. I know I should.

But I can't help myself. There's a tingling in my palm, and I couldn't let go if I wanted to.

**Isla Tesoro**

My face is burning as I stalk through Isla Tesoro. I don't see the scenery at all until Jasper's laughter reaches me. I whip around, ready to… I don't know what.

I can't take the thought of him laughing at me – but he's not looking at me. Of course not.

He's staring at the dresses where Jack Sparrow is peeking out, and there's a look of enchantment on his face. "They really made it look like him, huh?"

I can't speak, so I nod and wave my hand, trying to make him hurry up before the next boat comes.

**Tight**

We step into the narrow hallway, and the door clicks closed, drowning out the voices of excited tourists. I can't pay them any attention, though, because Jasper stopped as soon as he went through the door.

I nearly knock him over, and his muscled arms wrap around me, keeping us both from falling to the ground. He's warm, and I'm hard, and I've never been more mortified in my life.

I step away hurriedly, but I fantasize that his arms are slow to fall from my waist.

"Sorry," I mumble, straightening my glasses.

I feel him move in the darkness.

**Linger**

"Don't be," he whispers.

I'm imagining that he's so close I can feel his energy, the way his cells vibrate in his skin. I jump when his hand closes around my upper arm. The feeling is too visceral when combined with the half-formed fantasies that have been playing through my mind.

I'm frozen, drowning in this impossible world where I'm in over my head.

"I did it on purpose," he admits.

I give an embarrassing squeak, completely at a loss, as his hand drifts down my arm. His heat lingers over my hand with the lightest pressure.

Then it's gone.

**Marvel**

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. I can hear embarrassment in his voice, but I can't fathom why. When I don't say anything, he takes a step back. "If I misunderstood. I thought…I mean…the way you…"

My traitorous mouth has decided to seal itself shut, so all I can do is take a step, closing the distance between us again. My hand finds his elbow, and my fingers tighten over the strength I sense there.

"Aww, hell…" he breathes.

Warm lips meet mine, paralyzing me like a cobra's strike. As quickly as I froze, I thaw.

I whimper, trying to keep up.

**Rum**

"_Drink up, me hearties! Yo ho!"_

The piped voice filtering into the hallway is a reminder that we've been gone way too long and should really get back up top.

I don't care.

Instead of pushing Jasper away, I pull him closer, and he gives a moaning half-sigh as he presses me against the rough wall. His hands are on my hips, gripping me tightly, while mine hang uselessly by my sides.

His tongue traces my lips, and my mouth opens automatically. I tremble when I feel his hard-on brushing mine.

Finally, his hands squeeze my hips. He steps back.

**Cursory**

He whispers apologies and promises and then takes my hand, turning to lead me out of the darkness that has become my haven. My feet are leaden; I would do anything to stay here. I know that when we step into the harsh daylight, Jasper will realize that he had the wrong guy. Surely he meant to kiss Peter or Jake.

Anyone but me.

He drops my hand before pushing through the outer door, his easy confidence returning at once.

Emmett mutters, "'Bout time. Have fun?" and elbows my shoulder with a knowing grin.

I glower and lower my eyes.

**Steal**

The first time Jasper's hand slides along my lower back as he walks past me, my eyes widen. I look up to find him watching me.

"You okay?" he mouths. I'm lost in the magic of his lips moving before I come to my senses enough to nod.

I smile tentatively, and he smiles back. My breathing stutters when he licks his lips to moisten them before talking to another tourist.

I steal glances, catching him watching me more often than not. Suddenly I'm brave enough to talk to him – just little things, but I love how his smile brightens.

**Crew**

I don't know whose life I'm living, but it's certainly not Edward Masen's. For the first time since I started working here, I've felt eyes on me, and I've… flirted.

Just thinking it makes my cheeks heat.

"Haley boy!" Emmett's voice draws my attention, but I look at Jasper. "You ready?"

I frown, realizing our crew's shift has ended, but Jasper calls back, "Give me a sec?"

He jogs to me. "Hey," he says breathlessly.

"Hey," I answer with a stupid smile.

"Emmett's supposed to take me home, but I was wondering…"

I interrupt, "Can I give you a ride?"

**Honey**

"How do you know Emmett?" I ask when Jasper comes back.

"He's engaged to my sister." He shrugs. "He got me a job here when I moved."

"You're Rosalie's little brother?" I step back to look at him – I can see it in the honey blond hair, but I never had to fight the urge to lick her jaw like I do his.

He smiles at whatever he sees in my eyes and nods, telling me about moving from Texas for college. "This is actually the first time I've been in Disneyland."

"Well… come on." I tentatively offer my hand.

**Sparrow**

Jasper is adorable as we climb into the boat. He doesn't hide his enthusiasm, pointing at Jack Sparrow just like the little kids around us. I've seen this ride a thousand times, know it inside and out, so I watch him.

I'd been half-planning to ask him to my place. Just the thought sent nervous thrills up my spine, but seeing his excitement, I make a snap decision to show him the rest of the park.

That is, until I feel his hand squeezing my thigh. He leans in, his breath hot and voice low. "Wanna get out of here?"

**Glimmer**

The sunset glints off my windshield as I settle behind the wheel. What I'm doing hits me then. Hard.

_Fuck._

Jasper notices my nervous tapping and puts his hand on my knee. It does nothing to calm my racing heartbeat.

"You don't mind?" he asks quietly.

I shake my head, asking him more about Rosalie. The distraction doesn't work. I'm focused only on those three fingers drifting back and forth, his thumb slipping beneath the edge of my shorts.

I don't know if I'll make it to my apartment.

Worse, I don't know what to do when I get there.

**Savvy**

Woodenly, I sit on my couch. His thigh presses against mine as he leans over, murmuring, "Been waiting all day to kiss you again. Can I?"

"God, please," I whisper, my nerves taking a backseat to the raging desire I feel for him. He pushes me back on the couch, his body covering mine as his hips settle between my thighs.

Before long, my fears return, growing exponentially, and I stop him. "Jasper, I'm sorry… I… I just…"

He presses up, cupping my cheek.

I can't meet his eye. "I've never… this is… no one's ever…"

He smiles. "Can I?"

**Mirror**

I babble, getting it all out, sure that he'll leave when he finds out I really haven't done _anything_ – that his body over mine was already further than I'd ever gone.

He stays.

His hands caress each inch of skin he reveals, undressing me as his whispered words build me up, leaving me cloaked in a foreign sense of pride.

I wish he was a mirror so I could see what he sees when I look at myself.

But it doesn't matter, not so long as _he_ keeps looking at me that way.

"Can I please taste you?" he murmurs.

**Pearl**

My cheeks flame when Jasper settles me – nude – on my couch. He spreads my thighs and kneels between them, his eyes focused on my face as he wraps his hand around my cock and kisses me hard.

I can feel want – _need_ – behind his kiss, and it staggers me.

He pulls away, and both our eyes go to the same place. I want to crawl beneath the couch when I see the pre-cum dripping from my tip because he knows I'm so goddamn ready for this that I can't even think straight.

He hums and ducks, savoring as he licks.

**Combust**

In my wildest fantasies, I never imagined the paradise that is Jasper's mouth. It is soft lips and stinging teeth, rough tongue and blissful pressure, and I can't keep my hips still. One of his hands strokes my base beneath his lips, while the other digs into my thigh.

My hands pull his hair, far beyond my control, and my eyes are fused to the sight of my cock disappearing into his mouth.

I should warn him, but I can't. My only sound is a gasping cry as Jasper both ignites and quenches the fire that leaves me in ashes.

**Treasure**

He kisses me tenderly, letting me taste myself. I'm a panting, shaking mess. I can't even lift my arms, but he does all the moving for me.

He settles on the cushions beside me, caressing my cheek. "I've wanted you since I saw you this morning. I asked Emmett about you, so I guess I had an unfair advantage." His smile is sheepish, endearing. "Let me make it up to you?"

His words make no sense. "You just… I think you just did."

We both laugh, and he kisses me again. "Let me take you out tomorrow?"

"Please," I whisper.

**Stutter**

My fingers fumble, so he helps me get dressed again. I realize he's making no move to continue what we started.

"What… what ab-about you? I don't kn-know how this w-w-works," I admit, feeling shame flare on my cheeks. I curse the way my stutter triumphs at the worst times after years of battling it.

"You know you're adorable?" he asks, smiling softly.

"Aren't you… I-I mean…" I sigh, plunging ahead. "You're not ex-excited?"

He takes my hand, placing my palm on his erection; my eyes widen when I feel it pulsing. "Beyond," he murmurs. "But you're new to this."

**Sheet**

For the first time, I initiate our kiss, needy and insistent.

"Come here," I whisper. I drag him to my bedroom, where I pull his shorts down and stroke him once.

He feels so… strange. Familiar and foreign together. My eyes flutter closed and my lips part when I realize that I'm _finally_ doing this.

I push him to my sheets and pull out the bottle of lube I've only ever used alone. I warm it and take him in hand, closing my eyes as I imagine it's me and know it's _him_ at the same time.

He pants, "Jesus…"

**Astonished**

He gasps and groans, his breath catching before he whimpers. I open my eyes to find his face, and I've never seen anything so intoxicating. His lips are parted, his head pressed into the pillow with his eyes closed, and I feel a thrill to know that _I'm_ doing that.

I squeeze a little harder, twisting my wrist near his head just the way I like, and his eyes fly wide.

"Oh fuck," he breathes, his shoulders lifting from the mattress.

I cover the head of his cock with my other hand, amazed at the way he fills my palm.

**Surpass**

We lie utterly motionless for a while. I'm afraid to move because I don't know what happens next.

I grin when I realize that he just seems incapable of moving.

Remembering how much I enjoyed kissing him afterward, I lean down, rewarded when his lips move against mine hungrily. He reaches up, his thumb tracing my cheekbone as he pulls back to look at me.

"Fuck, Edward," he whispers gruffly, "you're better at that than I am."

"Probably had more practice." My voice is half-teasing, half-rueful, and the way we laugh together feels _good_, as if we're sharing something private.

**Flirt**

"_Mind if I stay for a while?"_ The words reverberate through my mind, making me smile as I glance at him sitting beside me on the couch. His arm is stretched along the back, and he idly plays with my hair.

I've enjoyed playing host a little too much, and there's a part of me that knows I'm acting entirely too eager, but… fuck… I _am_ eager.

I've never known anyone like Jasper, and the more I learn, the more I _like_ him.

I answer the knock at the door, and we settle in the floor, flirting over Chinese take-out.

**Thin**

For the first time ever, I curse having a day off. I pace my apartment, checking my e-mail compulsively, and I can't even focus enough to write up my character's actions for my play-by-post campaign.

I'm useless.

I notice every tick of the clock as I count down the hours until Jasper gets off. I wash the dishes and vacuum. I clean my glasses.

Twice, I find myself in the shower, my cock in hand as I relive our unbelievable night and pray that tonight might bring more of the same.

When my patience is thinnest, my phone finally rings.

**Delight**

Even though I drive, Jasper planned our whole date. He directs me to a perfect restaurant – nice but casual. We trade stories of family and high school and coming out.

When conversation turns to past boyfriends, I have nothing to say. Jasper's voice lowers as he talks, and I nod when the picture becomes clear.

I've done nothing; he's done everything.

His hand reaches across the table, wrapping around mine. "Hey," he says softly. "Don't shut me out, okay? I like _you_."

I smile, swallowing my fears with my Coke.

A movie, a drive, and we're back at my place.

**Arrest**

His lips are warm and perfect, moving with mine as we settle on my couch. He tastes like the chocolate cake we shared, and I moan, my hand sliding up his thigh.

He smiles against my lips and puts his hand over mine, stopping me.

"Slow down, baby," he whispers, kissing me again as my chest flutters. I've never heard anyone call me that before, and hearing it on _his_ voice makes me want it all.

Now.

Sensing my renewed determination, he pulls away and looks me in the eye. "Edward, I'm serious. I want to mean something to you."

**Intimate**

His words are heavy, their importance pressing through my skin until I feel it in my bones.

He doesn't understand.

"You do," I whisper fervently.

It doesn't occur to me to be embarrassed, especially when his lips curve into a half-smile. He murmurs, "God, I'm in trouble."

When I ask what he means, he says, "I can't say no to you," and lies back on the couch, pulling me with him.

It's awkward at first as my clumsy body tries to figure out what to do, but soon my hips are rocking against his, our tongues brushing as we moan.

**Sugar**

Despite Jasper's capitulation, I follow his lead. We spend hours on my couch, our bodies molded together as we kiss and rub, lips learning jawlines as hands trace torsos. I don't know if it's always like this, but I know that it's the most intimate night that _I_ have ever spent.

Each time we drive each other to the brink, we pause, carrying on quiet conversations punctuated with sweet kisses and gentle caresses until our hands begin to roam again.

By the time I drive Jasper home, I am intoxicated, flying high on possibility as his fingers lace through mine.

**Sin**

Work the next day is a special hell. Whenever I catch Jasper watching me, I long to repeat the sins that led to this unique torture.

His hands guiding a woman onto a boat make me blush. His lips pursing as he ponders a question have me turning away to adjust myself surreptitiously.

I'm struggling for control when Emmett calls for my break.

Jasper's voice is suddenly in my ear. "Come here a sec?"

He pulls me into the darkened corridor, barely letting the door close before kissing me thoroughly.

"Sorry, I just… fuck, Edward. Can I see you tonight?"

**Suspended**

Days, then weeks pass in the same rhythm. We push too far before regaining control just to lose it again.

My mouth and hands know Jasper's body intimately, and he has discovered erotic places on mine that I never knew existed. I know what makes him moan, what makes him writhe under my touch. I am in awe every single time I feel him fall to pieces.

I know his scent when he gets out of the shower, his taste when he comes, his sleepy voice when he wakes.

But I don't know how to tell him I want more.

**Trip**

"But Rosalie already knows me," I complain as we head up the sidewalk toward Jasper's building. I hear the whine in my voice and know that's why he's smiling, but I can't stop myself. Jasper's sister intimidates me, and I'm not looking forward to an evening with her and Emmett.

I stumble when Jasper pulls on my hand, and he catches me, apologizing and kissing me lightly. "Not as my boyfriend," he murmurs against my lips.

I feel the slow, silly smile spread on my face before I wrap my arms around him. "That okay?" he asks, and I nod.

**Solvent**

My knee bounces beneath the table as I field Rosalie's questions, but the pressure of Jasper's hand on my thigh dissolves my anxiety. I sit back, taking time to breathe, and I can see her probing for what it is – concern.

She's afraid that I'll hurt her brother. The realization makes something catch in my chest, and I glance between the two of them, utterly certain that I… couldn't. Hurting Jasper would be worse than hurting myself.

But that sounds too grandiose, so I just smile and answer her questions the best I can, relaxing when she finally smiles, too.

**Hook**

His fingers are in my belt loops before I can even close the door. I reach behind me, turning the lock as he kisses me feverishly. His body is hard against mine, making the doorknob dig into my back, and I push him away slightly with a grin.

The look in his eyes is one I haven't seen before. Something smolders, burning away any pretense and leaving only Jasper, bared before me.

I cup his face, tracing his cheekbone with my thumb. "Baby, you knew, right?" I whisper. "You knew I could never hurt you?"

"I do now," he answers.

**Soft**

I've been practicing the words I want to say, trying them on in my mind until I was sure they fit. I pray my voice will remain steady, smooth, so that he has no reason to doubt me. I inhale and brush his lips with mine before exhaling lightly.

"I love you," I whisper.

Then I pause. My eyes squeeze shut as panic seizes my chest. I realize the fatal error in my plan – I never considered what he would say in return.

He kisses me tenderly, murmuring his love against my lips, and my heart begins to beat again.

**Coat**

"You're sure?" he whispers again, and I nod, kissing him eagerly as I pull his nude body on top of mine. We shift, moving to the center of the bed before his attentive hands resume their tour of my body.

"Please," I implore, slipping my legs around his hips.

My thighs tremble, but I'm certain that it's mostly from anticipation. Jasper murmurs quiet words meant to soothe and excite as his slick hands ready my body. We have played and explored, pushing our limits and soaring to new heights together, but we have never taken this step.

I am ready.

**Fill**

I hiss at the burn, worse than I expected, and the back of Jasper's fingers brush my cheek gently. "I know, baby… I'm sorry. Should I…?"

I grab his face, pulling his lips to mine before he can utter the word _stop_. I've waited so long for this. Everything is so right with Jasper – I need to feel him, need to share this one final act with him.

Inch by uncomfortable inch, he presses forward until the burn fades away. He pauses, looking down at me with a beaming smile, awe in his eyes. His face reveals everything I feel.

**Curve**

We are a writhing mass of fluid curves – my legs around his waist, his hand around my cock, the lifting of our lips in smiles.

We are panting and shivering, thrusting and moaning; I never want it to end, though I feel myself hurtling toward the most exquisite release. My body vibrates with exertion and pleasure, and his grunted, "I love you, Edward," sends me into a flat spin I cannot fight.

When he stills, it is only briefly before he's kissing me all over. He tends to us and then curls his body around mine as we drift off.

**Joy**

The sweltering sun beats down as I brush my moist hair out of my eyes.

"Masen!" I groan at Emmett's voice. "Someone puked in Isla Tesoro. Take Hale with you."

My cheeks flame as I nod. Jasper appears beside me, and as we pass Emmett, he mutters, "If you're not back in twenty, I'm sending Peter in after you."

I can't be pissed – or embarrassed – because as soon as the door closes, Jasper's arms are around me. His hands cup my ass as he apologizes. "I paid Emmett. I had to get you alone."

"You're unbelievable," I whisper, kissing him.


	3. Candid Campfire for OTTA's Birthday

_**A/N:**__ These drabbles are some Edward/Jasper camping adventures written for __**OnTheTurningAway**__'s birthday. I hope you enjoy them! _

_There is some umm…picspiration up on my blog, if you'd like to see it. http:/sorceress-circe(dot)blogspot(dot)com/2010/07/happy-birthday-ontheturningaway(dot)html_

**

* * *

**

**-=Frantic=-**

My fingers twitch, aching to reach across the flickering campfire for the Droid stuffed into the bottom of my backpack.

I want it. _Need_ it.

I need to know what's going on in the world, if my offer on the beach house was approved, if my crew can start demolition on our latest project.

"Not a chance," his lazy voice drawls.

My eyes snap from dull gray fabric to vivid gray eyes. I take a calming breath.

That smile – that _face_ – those lips… they make up the one man in the world who could convince me to exile myself willingly.

**-=Glow=-**

"Not bored, are you?" he whispers, his face suddenly so close I can feel his breath blaze against my cheek, hotter than the glowing flames that cast him in shadow.

"No." I swallow, relishing the thrill that shoots through me at the hunger I see in his eyes.

He leans in, his nose trailing along my jaw to nudge my ear. "Damn… too bad."

My hands lift automatically, my fingers toying with the top button of his flannel shirt. "Why?" I ask breathlessly.

"Because I know a great cure." His voice is wicked, as teasing as his hand dipping down.

**-=Blind=-**

Clothes are scattered all around, ripped off in haste, removed with care, our hands alternately frenzied and tender.

When we are down to our underwear, he tries to pull away, reaching for a blanket, but I shake my head, my lips still against his. He smiles, a low chuckle rumbling his chest as he presses me back into the grass.

He tears my underwear away, and I shove his briefs over his hips, my head lolling to the ground when his bare flesh meets mine.

My open eyes stare vacantly as Jasper peppers my body with kisses, caressing me roughly.

**-=Chase=-**

My body burns, flames igniting where he presses into me, spreading through my hips and torso, scorching my throat and leaving me panting for sweet relief.

I am vaguely aware of pain, rocks and prickly grass digging into my back, but it only serves to emphasize the bliss that is Jasper's body joined with mine.

"Fuck, Edward," he grunts, exertion and tenuous control making his voice raw.

He brushes his hand off on my discarded shirt and spits in his palm, reaching between us to take my cock in hand. My toes curl, hips rise, back arches.

I cry out.

**-=Blaze=-**

We lie on our sides, Jasper's body comfortable against my back as we watch the campfire together. The blanket is soft beneath us, the evidence of our earlier frenzy all but erased as we share a moment of serenity.

I listen to his breathing against the clicking melody of the cicadas. He laughed when I asked what the noise was, but it was a sound of affection, not derision.

His hand strokes my chest beneath my shirt as his lips brush against my neck.

"Marry me, Ed," he whispers.

I don't have to think; my answer is simple, absolute.

"Yes."


	4. Blind Date for EchoesOfTwilight

_**A/N:**__ Yet another series of drabbles written to relieve writer's block and release some stress. I asked __**EchoesOfTwilight**__ for the first prompts and the basic situation, and this is what I got:_

_**Situation:**__ E/J, Blind-dateward but he's not too happy about being set up and goes along with it only grudgingly, so he doesn't really see what's in front of him, iykwim_

_I hope you all like what I've done with it! :)_

_Special thanks to Em, Di, Karin, Kimber, and Ang for prereading – love you ladies!_

**

* * *

**

**-=Knock=-**

I grimace at the rapping on my door. How the hell I let Emmett talk me into this, I'll never know.

I twist to look at my profile in the mirror as I smooth the new Under Armour shirt over my abdomen. I sigh, relaxing my shoulders and cursing the paunch that appears.

"_You really need to meet my trainer, bro. He's hot. You know, for a dude."_

I curse Emmett under my breath as I go to answer the door.

This isn't me.

I don't go on blind dates.

I don't date athletes.

So why am I doing both?

**-=Attentive=-**

"You still okay, Edward?" Jasper says, his voice light. He glances at me as our bikes roll to a stop.

I nod, conscious of my too-heavy breathing. My lungs feel like they're on fire, and I make a mental note to take my bike out more often.

Emmett rides up to us with a massive grin. Greetings are exchanged. Rosalie hugs me, whispering, "Damn, Eddie… what'd you do to land that one?"

My nostrils flare as I bite the inside of my cheek without answering. We walk beneath the balloon arch together, festival-goers crowding around us on all sides.

_Hell._

**-=Measure=-**

The day is spent marking time, never moving forward through a fog of heat and sound, bodies pressing too close, children squealing shrilly, an overload of sensations of the worst kind.

The best part of the afternoon is the music – a local cover band playing at the pavilion in the center of the park. They are good, but Jasper's voice is even better as he sings along.

I sense his impatience, see the way he talks to Emmett more and more as the day wears on. He is just as anxious to get this "date" over with as I am.

**-=Escape=-**

We say goodbye to Emmett and Rose. Even though Jasper mentions riding home with me, I think about telling him goodbye, too, but I stop myself because I know it would upset Emmett.

The bike ride is silent. He makes no further attempts to get to know me, his curiosity sated.

I'm surprised when he puts down his kickstand and walks me to my door. "Thanks for going out with me," he says in a husky voice. I can sense his disappointment.

The air is heavy as his head tilts. Our chaste kiss is the best part of the day.

**-=Lavender=-**

I settle into the steaming tub, exhaling as I relax in the lavender-scented water. I hum contentedly, relishing the relief it brings to my sorely neglected, overworked muscles.

My tongue runs along my lips as I picture Jasper the way he looked just before he kissed me.

Was that… desire I saw?

_Not a chance._

But part of me believes it was. With sick certainty, I begin to see that I could have spent tonight in the toned arms of the most gorgeous man I've ever kissed.

_Who cares if he's an athlete?_

_Idiot._

I wonder what else I missed.

**-=Hold=-**

As I climb into bed, my skin soft and my muscles loose, Jasper is still on my mind. It wouldn't have worked out – of course not – but when I think of having him for just one night…

My body stirs, my cock hardening as I remember the way his muscles flexed, the way his limbs moved as if born of grace.

Nothing like me.

As I take myself in hand, I see him as he was toward me today – silent but attentive. I envision his mouth, perfect lips wrapping around my cock.

I'm bothered that I can't picture his eyes.

**-=Surprise=-**

A banging sound invades my dreams, and I groan, rolling over onto my stomach and burying my face in my pillow. My hips shift on the bed, morning wood brushing the sheets, and then the pounding starts again.

"What the fuck?" I mumble groggily, irritated. I don't get up, though, convinced that they'll go away.

No such luck.

When minutes have passed with the incessant knocking, I roll out of bed and stumble to the dresser for a pair of boxers.

When I open the door, I find deep gray eyes with undertones of purple that match the predawn sky.

**-=Rise=-**

I blink, yawning as I watch Jasper – entirely too awake – unload paper sacks at my kitchen table before handing me a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, flopping into a seat and reaching for the sugar.

He pauses, leaning forward so that his folded arms rest on the back of a chair. "I couldn't sleep. I needed to know what I did wrong."

"Nothing. I just… don't date athletes."

Silence.

"That's condescending and a little insulting. I'm a _person_."

I blink again.

He sighs. "How about I give you breakfast… and you give me a chance?"

**-=Sweet=-**

We don't talk as he sets out bagels, muffins, and a single cinnamon roll. I furrow my brow at it before glancing at Jasper curiously.

"My favorite," he says. "Which is why I can't eat them."

"Why'd you bring it?"

"Was hoping you'd split it with me." His grin is easy and crooked. Beautiful.

I realize then that he has a calm confidence I admire. How I mistook it for cockiness yesterday, I don't know. He's just… comfortable in his own skin.

I nod, and his eyes brighten as he halves it. "Excellent. So Emmett tells me you're an engineer?"

**-=Duress=-**

Times passes until I recognize the tightness in my chest for what it is – shame. I realize as I answer Jasper's questions that these are things we should have talked about on our first date.

Worse… we _did_ talk about some of them.

But the fact that he's asking about my history again – my family, how I know Emmett, what made me decide to move so far from home – reveals that he sensed my reticence and distance yesterday.

I was a dick.

But my panic rises for another reason entirely.

I _like_ him.

And I may have fucked up completely.

**-=Beam=-**

The sun is slanting across my kitchen table, its light dulled in the brilliance of Jasper's playful smile as he dodges my questions about his past.

When I protest, his eyes twinkle mischievously as he says, "Now, now… can't tell you everything right away. How else will I get you to go to dinner with me tonight?"

My breath catches. "You just had to ask," I answer honestly.

Some of the bravado fades from his face as his voice softens, brittle vulnerability crinkling the edges. "Will you?"

I nod, my wide smile matching his as words are exchanged, arrangements made.

**-=Glitter=-**

I blink against the harsh light as we step out of my front door. The sun's rays glitter on the river just across the street, capturing and releasing my attention as I turn back to him.

My thoughts scatter like the silver glints of light, confusion and disbelief warring with hope. In a scant few hours, Jasper's transformed before me, and I need to know him, need to understand this intriguing mind and complex personality housed in the most beautiful body I've ever touched.

He stands beside his bike, hand on the seat, and clears his throat. "Can I kiss you?"

**-=Drown=-**

My heart pounds; I nod, the rush of blood in my ears drowning out the river's babble. I swallow as Jasper's lips twist into that lopsided grin, and I close my eyes as he steps closer.

I can't look at him, can't absorb that level of perfection without feeling my heart drop and my anxiety double.

I don't want to ruin this moment.

His hands cup my elbows as he urges me closer. I take a tentative step until I feel his heat, our chests brushing as our bodies meet. Warm lips claim mine while confident arms encircle my waist.

**-=Feeling=-**

Disconcerted, I lean against the closed front door. My head thunks against the wood as I close my eyes, darkness cloaking me in the safety of my home.

I feel nude, exposed in my thin t-shirt and boxer shorts, and even though no one is here to see me, I rush to my room to dress in something more substantial.

My body burns with embarrassment as I realize that I sat half-clothed across the table from Jasper, talking and laughing.

I wonder why I didn't notice then, what it is about him that let me forget my insecurities briefly.

**-=Again=-**

This time, the knock at my door is expected – welcome, even. My stomach is in knots as I run my fingers through my hair, casting one last look in the mirror.

I'm a mess, as usual, but it'll have to do.

Jasper's smile is relaxed, easy, and I watch as those purple-gray eyes drift down my body before climbing back to my face. "You look fantastic," he says.

I search his face for some sign of disappointment to belie the words, but I find none.

"Thanks," I mumble, self-consciously adjusting my tie. "You look better."

He frowns. "Not a chance."

**-=Single=-**

Dinner is delicious, but the flavors of blackened fish sweetened with mango salsa are an aftertaste. My tongue's true delight is the conversation that flows freely between us.

We discuss former lovers, and I'm somewhat surprised to learn that Jasper is bisexual. His last relationship was with a woman named Maria – he seems as disillusioned with her as I am with Alec.

I can't even say his name without bitterness seeping into my voice.

Jasper wipes his mouth with his napkin. "How long have you been…?"

"Single?"

He nods with a small smile.

"Three years. It was… ugly." I grimace.

**-=Bitter=-**

His eyes widen. "Jesus. It's been three years since you've…" he trails off, his cheeks tinged pink as he sips his water. "Sorry, that's personal and rude."

My voice is wry, covering my discomfort as I say, "No, I didn't say that. I… date." His smirk matches my own. "It's just been a long time since I was… exclusive, I guess you could say."

He frowns slightly. "Why?"

His directness still throws me off, and I take a moment to consider my response.

I decide to answer honestly. "Because I thought he was the one for me. I was wrong."

**-=Overload=-**

I can sense his curiosity, but Jasper steers the conversation away from the topics that make me uncomfortable and tells me instead about his family.

My fork slows as his words begin to fill me with trepidation. I lower it to my plate, my eyes seeking his but finding them staring at the napkin in his hand.

"My dad had a massive heart attack when I was fourteen. They tried to save him, but there was just…" He trails off and gives a half-hearted shrug, swallowing. "I was devastated."

"God, Jasper, I'm so sorry…" My words are weak, flimsy.

True.

**-=Inspire=-**

I watch Jasper eat grilled fish and steamed vegetables as he talks, the picture becoming horribly clear.

His mother's guilt, his own fears.

"I knew I couldn't live like that… I couldn't keep eating fried chicken and gravy every night, playing video games until my thumbs were callused. Mom tried to change, but it was what she knew, you know?"

I nod, even though I don't completely understand.

"So when it came time for college, I left. Moved away from Texas, brought my bike, never bought a car…"

He grins impishly. "I didn't set out to be a personal trainer."

**-=Circle=-**

As we walk around the restaurant to Jasper's car, curiosity gets the best of me. I want to know him – to fill in all the blanks of his life – and I greet the desire to be truly intimate with someone warily.

I don't _want_ to be afraid.

But I feel urges with Jasper that I'd thought were long-since-dead for me.

"So what made you buy a car?" I ask, forcing my demons to return to their dormant state.

His cheeky grin is sexy as hell. "Hard to be seductive on a bike."

"Not for you," I mutter under my breath.

**-=Grip=-**

I watch Jasper's hands on the steering wheel as he drives – the simple flex and release revealing sinew, hinting at strength. He sings along with the radio absently, and I use the time to drink him in.

Greedily, I inhale his scent, wrap myself in the sound of his voice, entertain fantasies of what he must look like beneath the tailored shirt tucked into his pants.

I wonder if I'll get to find out tonight.

His eyes flicker to me just as mine finally return to his face.

His smile lets me know he caught me… and he doesn't mind.

**-=Sharp=-**

The neighborhood is quiet when Jasper walks me to my door. The streetlamps fight back against the moonless night, leaving us feeling secluded.

Just before my doorstep, he tugs on my hand so I face him. He takes my other hand, too, and clears his throat. "I'd ask if I could come in, but I don't think it's a good idea."

My disappointment is sharp, slicing me open and knocking the wind from my lungs.

"No, it's not that," he says softly. "Edward, I don't want to _date_ you." Warm lips press against mine. "I want to be with you."

**-=Flavor=-**

My hands slide up his arms to cup his face, bringing him closer as I kiss him, trying to make him feel everything I feel. I taste him for the first time, feel his tongue brushing mine, and it takes everything I have to back away.

His lips linger, following me briefly before he rests his forehead against mine. "God, you make it hard…" he whispers.

He smiles when I chuckle, kissing me softly. "Good night, Edward."

"Good night, Jasper," I answer, his sweetness on my tongue as I force myself to go inside, his eyes heavy on my back.

**-=Small=-**

_I know it's late. Call me if you're still up?_

I stare at the text on the little screen, the smile on my face disproportionately huge.

Without question, I hit the call button. Jasper answers immediately.

"_Hey, sorry. I just…"_

"Me, too." I settle into the corner of my couch, wearing only the boxers I'd worn on our date earlier. "I was getting ready for bed."

Silence, followed by a playful groan. We talk lightly, and then I have to ask.

"I was such a dick. Why did you try again?"

"_I don't know. I just… needed to know you."_

**-=Ripple=-**

The work week is torturously slow. My project is one I'm passionate about – developing the plan that will save wetlands from being destroyed by a necessary road – but it cannot hold my attention for long.

Never before have I had this problem, not in my adult life anyway.

Nothing has really changed. I'm the same man I was last week, but Jasper is a catalyst, the effects of our meeting spreading through my life like ripples on a pond.

When I meet with Emmett to share my design, he notices.

"You like him," he teases.

"I do."

"Excellent." He grins.

**-=Spy=-**

I spend the week learning all I can – asking Emmett, talking to Jasper himself, checking out his blog – but I've reached a new low.

I adjust my sunglasses, sipping coffee as I sit huddled on the patio of the deli beside the gym where Jasper works.

I can't explain this need to observe him unnoticed. It's ridiculous and makes me feel like a stalker, but there's a part of me that wonders if he's too good to be true.

He steps outside, laughing as he begins to jog with a client, and I realize my mistake.

Seeing him isn't enough.

**-=Discomfort=-**

When he calls that night, I find myself stammering, admitting that I watched him.

He's utterly silent long enough that my heart starts pounding.

"_Why?"_ he asks.

My heart stops, the sudden stillness shocking me. I answer without thinking. "I just needed to… see you."

No sound comes through the line until, finally, he exhales. _"Edward, if there's anything you want to know, all you have to do is ask."_

I make a small noise – I'm not sure what it means.

"_Next time you feel like 'seeing' me, how about giving me a call so I can see you, too?"_

**-=Picture=-**

The awkward moment passes with a few more words – apologies, assurances – before his voice turns playful. _"Did you at least like what you saw?"_

"God, yes," I breathe, chuckling with him.

"_Well, that's damn good to know."_

Normalcy settles in as we talk, making me realize that, crazy early as it is, I _need_ Jasper.

It's fucking scary… but exciting.

We talk randomly, confirming our next date before saying reluctant goodbyes.

Seconds later, my phone buzzes, and I find a picture of Jasper, bare-chested and smiling.

The blush is still on my cheeks in the picture I send to him.

**-=Weave=-**

The next few weeks are spent dating, learning each other over healthier food than I usually eat. The soundtrack is our laughter and soft sighs and the music from my iPod as I try to educate Jasper.

I teach him music; he teaches me trust.

He offers patience and understanding, listening to my fears as we weave the threads of our lives together. He knows now how Alec left me, stunned and broken when I caught him with another man.

Jasper had wiped away tears I was ashamed to let fall, his anger showing in the shaking of his fingertips.

**-=Force=-**

The sound of a knock on my door has a Pavlovian effect on my body, prompting a smile and making my skin sing with anticipation as I go to answer it.

It's been over a month, but Jasper and I have still done nothing more than kiss. I'm holding back because he is.

I have no idea why he's holding back.

He steps inside, his eyes dark despite the carefree smile on his lips. When we kiss, he presses just a little bit harder, his lips lingering a little longer.

"I ordered in," he murmurs. "I hope you don't mind."

**-=Visceral=-**

Half-empty take-out cartons are scattered across my coffee table, but we ignore them. Occasional caresses and accidental brushes erupt into Jasper's body covering mine as he presses me back into the couch cushions.

"God, Edward…" he whispers. "I'm sorry… we should stop…" He interrupts himself, kissing me hard with a needy whimper that makes me wonder if he _could_ stop. "I just… fuck…"

His teeth sting my bottom lip as my hands roam his back frantically, searching for smooth, hidden skin.

"I want you so goddamn bad…" he whispers, resting his forehead against mine.

I smile, claiming his lips again.

**-=Collect=-**

He stills the movement of his hips as his kisses slow. He trails his lips over my jaw, teasing my ear, kissing the tip of my chin.

I follow his lead again, my palms flattening against his ass as I relax my grip. I kiss just in front of his ear and whisper, "What's wrong, Jasper? Did I… did I do something?"

It's easier to say it this way, easier to voice my fears when I can't see his face. His stubble scratches my cheek as he lifts his head.

"God, no," he says, confused. "Why would you think that?"

**-=Spin=-**

He sits up halfway, cupping my cheek. "Edward, you've done nothing wrong… not at all. I… I have something I need to tell you."

Blood pulsing through my veins suddenly makes it impossible to hear what he mutters under his breath. "What is it, Jay?" I manage.

The hand on my face moves to my chest, his palm covering my heart as he says, "I'm falling in love with you, Edward. I…" He pauses, licking swollen lips and watching me with vulnerable eyes. "I can't do this until you feel it, too."

"But I do," I admit, my voice husky.

**-=Game=-**

His smile is slow to form but brilliant, making up in intensity what it lacked in speed. He leans forward, his hands slipping under my t-shirt before he urges me up, pulling the fabric over my head.

"Tell me you mean it… please," he whispers between hurried kisses. "You have no idea how hard it's been…"

"Yes, I do." I chuckle softly. He joins me, his shoulders shaking as I remove his shirt. "And you have no idea how much I mean it…"

He sits up, his hands going to my pants, and I study him in the soft light.

**-=Tile=-**

He is breathtaking, a nearly perfect specimen, and I swallow against my sudden feeling of inadequacy.

I study the ripples of his abdomen, so taut, so tantalizing. His biceps bulge as his hands roam my torso, soft and shapeless, especially compared to his.

I feel a sudden urge to cover up, tell him I'm not ready after all.

"I've wanted to touch you this way since the first time I saw you," he murmurs, his voice nearly inaudible. He narrates his journey, describing the longings _he_ feels.

As I listen, I feel like a mosaic – perfection crafted from imperfect tiles.

**-=Groove=-**

It takes everything I am, but I place my trust in him. I shove my insecurities aside, forcing them to a deeper, darker place with every article of clothing Jasper removes.

His body feels so different beneath my fingertips, harder planes and more definition than I've come to expect. I break away often, needing to _see_ that he's real.

The look in his eyes assures me that his emotions are true, too.

I kiss my way down his nude body, trailing my tongue along the groove of his inner hip.

He breathes quiet encouragement, tangles his fingers in my hair.

**-=Shake=-**

He is hard and slick in my mouth, a welcome abrasion to my lips. I moan softly, reveling in the experience – that _I _am doing _this_ to _him_.

I have him panting, mumbling broken, incoherent words as his fingers tighten in my hair. I smile, feeling thick veins against the flat of my tongue. When I pull back and tease his tip, his hands shake, his thighs squeezing my chest.

"Fuck, Edward… you ha– oh, _fuck_ – have to tell me what you… you want… can't…"

His voice falls away. I raise my head to find his eyes.

"I want you."

**-=Outline=-**

His breathing is still erratic as he pulls back the sheets and guides me to sit on the bed. "Sorry," he whispers. "I just… I really need to do this the right way."

I see only his silhouette in the dim light filtering through my blinds, but I can feel his smile as he climbs over me. We shift on the bed, my legs sprawled with Jasper in between them.

I can feel him, hard and wanting, his need matching my own. He kisses me tenderly, his lips moving over my jaw… chin… nose… eyelids, finally returning to my lips.

**-=Glass=-**

"I lied before," he whispers into the darkness. His lips move against mine, but I am frozen. My heart – so brittle, so fragile, so lovingly pieced back together by Jasper – threatens to shatter at those three words.

He senses my tension and caresses my face soothingly. "No, baby, please listen…"

I swallow, unable to nod.

"I'm not _falling_ in love with you… I'm there, Edward. I love you."

Something in me releases, and I let out a sound that's half-sob, half-laughter. I can't answer in words, so I kiss him with abandon, finally whispering my love when our lips part.

**-=Edge=-**

The frenzy of our actions in the den is gone, replaced by a steady urgency that glows brighter as hands and lips fan the flames of desire.

Jasper explores my body, leaving me helpless… breathless… crying out for him. I am barely aware of his preparations, completely focused on the sheer pleasure he brings me, so I feel a spike of anxious surprise when his tip, sheathed and slick, presses against me.

He doesn't ask if I'm ready. He kisses me gently, his left hand cupping my cheek. I reach down, and together we make the choice to become one.

**-=Twitch=-**

There is no sound like the grunting breaths Jasper takes as he thrusts into me. I am overwhelmed, drowning in new sensations as I learn at once how he tastes and smells and sounds.

How he feels.

His head hangs down, his lips brushing my ear as he pants. My hands trace the curve of his spine, coming to rest on the swell of his ass. My hips rise to meet his in an intimate dance I haven't experienced in so long.

It's different.

With him, everything is different.

Trembling and twitching, we race toward our moment of ethereal bliss.

**-=Window=-**

Waking up beside Jasper for the first time is a sort of heaven. I wonder for a moment if I'm still dreaming when I open my eyes to weak sunlight pouring through my window to illuminate the blond-haired angel in my arms.

His light snoring convinces me.

I bite my lip to hold in a chuckle. I try to remain utterly still, but I last only seconds before a familiar ache in my hips forces me to shift. My fingers tighten against his side when he exhales and sniffs, but he sleeps on.

My eyes drift closed as I smile.

**-=Cloud=-**

My coffee is slightly bitter on my tongue as I watch Jasper eat his egg white omelet. He catches my eye, and I can't help but kiss him lightly.

"I love you," I whisper. Now that the feelings bubbling in my chest have been given a name, they break free often, prompting Jasper's eye-crinkling grin.

After my brief moment of wakefulness, we slept until noon and decided to have brunch at the café beside Jasper's gym. My heart is free, and I find myself humming.

Jasper's phone buzzes.

"It's Maria." His confused voice tears my eyes from the clouds overhead.

**-=Peace=-**

His lips are pressed into a thin line as he answers the text and tosses his phone onto the table. His usual calm assurance is gone, replaced by agitation.

"Jay?" I ask tentatively.

I realize for the first time that there are many things I don't know about Jasper – important things, like what actually happened with Maria.

My heart is in my throat as I take in his face, tight with tension, jaw clenched.

He doesn't answer.

"Are you alright?"

Finally, he exhales and offers a small smile as his eyes find mine. "Yeah, I just… hate dealing with her."

**-=Mark=-**

We barely talk as we finish our meal, interrupted twice more by texts from Maria. These, he ignores.

As I drive back to my house, I glance at him often. He stares out the window, his shoulders hunched. There's a difference to him, something more than just the way he rubs his chin and bites the inside of his cheek.

I give him time, understanding the need for space, but as we walk back into my living room, I can't take it anymore.

"Talk to me, Jay." I catch his hand, and he turns, burying his face in my neck.

**-=Evade=-**

"It's nothing," he whispers. "I'm fine."

For the first time ever, his kiss is out of something other than affection or desire.

It's a distraction.

I frown at him, placing my hands on his biceps as I push him away. "Don't lie."

He licks his bottom lip, his eyes moving quickly back and forth between mine before he nods. "I'm sorry," he whispers and runs his fingers through his hair.

We sit on the couch, and he turns to face me, his knee pulled between us.

"She asked to see me," he says.

I nod, afraid to speak.

"I… can't."

**-=Handle=-**

After fitful starts and stops, Jasper's words pour from him. My hand rests on his shin, caressing him soothingly through his jeans as he describes his heartbreak.

It becomes clear that he'd thought Maria was _his_ one and only.

It took years for him to see her controlling behavior, her condescension.

When he did, he was devastated.

"The sad part is that I tried, Ed. I tried to be what she wanted, even when she flat out told me that I wasn't good enough."

My heart feels too tight, and I wrap my arms around him, holding us both together.

**-=Key=-**

Jasper ignores Maria's attempt to contact him. He tells me he has nothing to say to her.

I believe him.

After all, I feel the same way about Alec.

We're growing, both together and as individuals, and there is nothing I don't tell him – which is why it's odd that I'm nervous now.

My hand closes around the innocuous piece of metal in my pocket as I watch him, reading on my couch. "Jasper?"

He glances up from his book, expectant surprise on his face.

"I had this made for you." I open my hand, key balanced in my palm.

**-=Smooth=-**

I inhale deeply, relishing blessed air as my feet work the pedals. The unbearable burning I once knew has vanished, replaced by a sense of being able to _breathe_.

I feel alive.

By the time I coast to a stop in front of my house, I am drenched in sweat. Disgusting.

Invigorated.

"Jay?" I call from the doorway.

"In the kitchen."

He frowns worriedly. I know why – and I know the words he needs to say.

He puts his hands on my hips, kissing my salty lips. "You don't have to do this," he whispers. "You're perfect just how you are."

**-=Shimmer=-**

"I don't want you to have to worry, Jasper," I murmur softly against his lips. "I'm here. Forever. I want to have a long, full life with you."

A war rages in his eyes, and then he kisses me in earnest. His hand toys with my shirt hem before he steps back, pulling it over my head.

We work our way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in our wake, and the awe I feel is reflected in his eyes when he moves over me.

No words are exchanged as we see the glimmer of our future.

* * *

_**A/N:** Thank you for reading - I really hope you enjoyed reading about their journey! :) Leave me a note, if you will._


	5. Night Music for naelany

_**A/N:**__ This drabble arc was written for my lovely co-author __**naelany**__'s birthday. When I was deciding what to write, __**EchoesOfTwilight**__ gave me a picture prompt along with a few one-word prompts. "Violin" was one of those words, and…well, this was born. Hope you enjoy!_

_If you'd like to see the inspirational pic as well as read tons of other great stories, visit __**naelany**__'s birthday blog at http:/happybdaynaelany2010(dot)blogspot(dot)com/_

_SM owns Twilight. I just do slashy things like this with the characters._

**

* * *

**

**-=History=-**

The past is a force unto itself, shaping a person's actions, thoughts… even his potential – to love, to change.

Now that my own past has well and thoroughly fucked me, I find it directing my footsteps, leading me far away from my native Houston.

I would like to say that I chose my new home of my own free will, but that's a lie.

Another memory has guided me here – a memory of firelight and my mother's arms. Warmth and Charles Dickens. Blake. Tennyson. Shakespeare.

Words influencing my desire to be a novelist and my longing to live _here_.

_London._

**-=Tower=-**

My first week is spent as a tourist, excited as I visit Buckingham Palace and Big Ben, the Tower Bridge. Trekking home from the London Eye, I feel the false energy leaving me.

A family walks in front of me, a couple with their daughter swinging between them, another baby on the father's back. It's not what I want, but it's _something_, and I wonder if I am a fool for giving up my chance to have it.

_No._

What I had was a lie.

A shower and an unfulfilling orgasm later, I fall asleep in my new bed.

Alone.

**-=Bridge=-**

Days are spent sleeping, nights writing furiously at my laptop. The ideas for my new novel are scattered, lacking _something_ to make them cohesive.

I can't find it.

But night after night, I produce countless words – some shit, some passable, some such utter perfection that I sit back and gape, wondering if they truly sprang from my mind.

Tonight, I'm restless.

I grab my coat, heading out the door without caring where my feet take me. It's late, but the streets are still crowded, so I turn the other way.

I take side streets and cross a footbridge, seeking isolation.

**-=Violin=-**

I shiver against the cold, wrapping my scarf around my neck and pulling the collar of my coat up. I rub my hands together to warm them, resolving to buy some gloves, when I hear something.

A melodic, mournful noise completely out of place in the London night.

The crunch of my boots muffles the sound, and I stop in frustration, frozen as I struggle to decide whether to simply listen or try to find the source.

In the end, I am pulled by a force greater than myself toward a house with muted light pouring through its frosted windows.

**-=Frame=-**

The chill in my fingertips surprises me, and I wonder at how I came to be here, standing less than a foot away from the house with my fingers pressed against the window.

Without my permission, my hand clears the fog from the glass.

A shadow passes by the window. I flinch, my eyes following the deeper darkness.

And then he steps into the light of the lamp.

My breath catches in my throat as I see him for the first time. His eyes are closed, his lips parted with a look of pure enchantment on his beautiful face.

_Angelic._

**-=Skyline=-**

I shiver and cup my hands, blowing into them as I pace past the windows of my flat. Finally I stop, my eyes drawn right to the spot where I know his house stands.

I can't see it, of course, not through the light pollution and towering buildings.

But I have no doubts I could point directly to it.

I was enraptured by the sight of him playing, my feet rooted to the spot until the shuddering of my shoulders and my chattering teeth forced me to move.

Rubbing my hands together, I return to my laptop with renewed energy.

**-=Scrawl=-**

My writer's block crumbles like so much rubble around me as the missing element transforms my newest story. I snatch up my journal, flipping through dog-eared pages while I move to the table.

I swing the lamp closer and pick up my pencil, scratching out notes and making new ones, updating my outline to include this new piece of information.

With one simple, _crucial_ decision, the novel begins to write itself. Characters take over, prompting me to scrawl key lines and vivid scenes in the margins of my notebook.

All because of one sudden realization…

My protagonist is a violinist.

**-=Rich=-**

Weeks pass in a frenzy of writing and too much coffee and meetings with my agent, who's ecstatic that I'm ahead of schedule.

She notes the change in me – the flushed cheeks, the bright eyes – but she doesn't know the reason.

I return to the source each night, drinking up the music he creates like the richest nectar. It suffuses my body, spreading through my limbs until I am reborn.

I long to make contact, to break through the invisible wall between us, but I cannot bear to stop the music…

Not when I know he could not want me.

**-=Wilt=-**

His memory haunts me as I lie in bed with the afternoon sun slanting across my flat.

His auburn hair morphs into inky black. His body's planes soften into delicate curves.

_Alice._

The way my mental voice whispers her name floors me, squeezing my heart until I want to claw it from my chest.

I cannot keep doing this. I came here to start a new life based on honesty.

If I _do_ nothing, then I broke Alice's heart for nothing. Hurting her in vain is the blackest blasphemy.

But he is perfect, unattainable.

So I resolve to stop going.

**-=Hands=-**

My gloved hands are in my pockets, my head down against the night wind.

_This is the last time,_ I tell myself, trying to ignore the blind panic at the thought of never seeing him again.

I'm later than usual, anxiously wondering if I'm _too_ late, if he has finished playing for the night.

But as soon as I arrive, mournful melodies surround me, and I sigh, leaning back against the house near my window. My eyes close as I let the music bathe me until the need to see him is overwhelming.

I wipe the pane clean, peering through.

**-=Trace=-**

He truly is an angel, gifted with grace and beauty, blessed with the capacity for utter absorption in the music he creates.

I cannot force myself to leave, not knowing this is my last chance to see him. I stay so long that I have to wipe the window clean countless times, each time being granted a pristine view of him before my wistful breath fogs the chilled glass, and he vanishes.

At last, I pull my glove off with jittery fingers and trace a heart in the condensation.

It's not much, but it's nearly more than I can do.

**-=Voice=-**

I turn on my heel with an overwhelming urge to run away – both so I won't be caught and so I won't be able to erase my subtle declaration.

My footsteps are loud, nearly masking the sound of a door opening.

"Hello? Who's there?" The melodious voice can belong only to him. It possesses the same cadence, the same ethereal perfection that's woven into the music he plays.

I know he can't see me – not clearly, not after being in his well-lit sitting room – so I keep my head down and walk away, my heart struggling to escape my chest.

**-=Station=-**

I cringe at the squealing of the train's wheels, discordant and grating, especially when compared to the flawless melodies that make my soul sing.

I step onto the platform, following the crowd to emerge into weak morning light. I wind my way to my agent's office, stifling a yawn with my fist as I blink sleepy tears from bleary eyes.

The meeting goes as well as expected. I'm fucked. Again.

She accepted my excuses of complicated plot and an unresolved question, but I know the real reason I can't write.

It's been eight long days since I last saw him.

**-=Umber=-**

I sip my wine, ignoring my closed laptop. I run my fingers through my hair, staring at the London skyline.

I see his auburn hair, a chaotic mess of red and brown woven together seamlessly in a way that seems to define him.

I wish I knew the color of his eyes.

I wish I could write more than a goddamn sentence at a time.

Tugging my hair, I drain my glass and sit with my feet on the floor.

_I have to see him._

I tell myself it's just because I need my muse, but I don't believe it.

**-=Icy=-**

My lungs expand, filling fully despite the frigid air. I hadn't realized that the iron band around my chest was making it so difficult to just… _breathe_.

I feel weightless somehow, airy and hopeful despite the bad decision I know I'm making. When I reach his street, my light steps are suddenly weighted down with trepidation.

The music of a single violin reaches my ears. It is a song he plays often, but this… this is not _his_. The rhythm is off, the notes slightly faster.

I approach the house with caution, lifting a shaking hand to clear the window.

**-=Smile=-**

_Green._

_His eyes are green._

They gaze back at me from his angelic face no more than a few feet away. He sits in an armchair facing the window with _Stardust_ open, forgotten, in his lap. His foot is propped against a mismatched ottoman, his hand lodged in that enchanting auburn hair.

His eyes widen when they see me, and my body freezes as my mind races.

I wonder why he is reading tonight, why he isn't playing.

I wonder what the hell he thinks of the voyeur lurking at his window.

Before I can reach any conclusions, he smiles.

**-=Excite=-**

He holds up one finger and tosses his novel to the ottoman before he stands up and disappears.

"No," I whisper, but my protest is silenced by the lump in my throat, where my heart has taken up residence.

When I hear the door open, I realize it's too late to run away this time. I don't know if I want to.

"Hello?" That musical, accented voice calls.

This time, I answer. "Hello?"

He gives a short, quiet laugh. "Come here," he says.

I stand completely still, unable to decide, until he adds, "It's cold out. Come inside, please."

**-=Sugar=-**

I take a seat on the edge of his couch, my knees awkwardly turned behind the coffee table. He emerges from the kitchen with a tray and sets it down in front of me.

Silent moments pass as we fix our tea. I watch the lumps of sugar dissolve, wondering how the hell to even begin trying to explain myself. I don't know that _I_ understand.

"My name is Edward," he murmurs, his green eyes gazing at me over his cup.

"Oh." I clear my throat, shifting uncomfortably. "Jasper."

"Jasper," he repeats with a fleeting smile. "Why did you stop coming?"

**-=Full=-**

My mind is too crowded with conflicting emotions to answer.

His lips curve into a smile again; I lift my eyes to fully meet his when he says, "I have a confession. I knew you were watching." His tongue wets his bottom lip, and I find myself leaning closer. "I sometimes played far later than I should have so you wouldn't leave."

At that, I find breathless words. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?"

"I… I'm new to… this," I admit.

"Prowling around to watch men through windows?" His words are teasing but wrapped in tenderness and understanding.

**-=Celebration=-**

We talk long into the night, and the strangest thing happens. I feel myself settling into my own skin, growing comfortable. Confident. Bold.

It's a foreign feeling, so intoxicating that I begin to shift closer to Edward – both unconsciously and intentionally.

I tell him I spoke honestly – I am _completely_ new to this. He simply smiles, assuring me he was once, too.

My heart flutters when he places his hand on my knee, turning to me. "Forgive me for being forward," he whispers, "but…"

My eyes drift closed as he leans in, and then an angel's lips claim my own.

**-=Warmth=-**

His kiss heats me from within the way the tea failed to do. I sit in stunned disbelief at first, unsure how to handle this – another man's mouth on mine.

But he feels _so_ right, our strength matching with the abrasion of stubble and the firmness of his lips.

When our chaste kiss ends, he pulls back with a soft smile dancing in his eyes. "Was that your first kiss?"

"With a man," I admit, unable to say more.

"And are you okay with it?" he asks, reaching up to gently brush blond curls away from my forehead. "With… me?"

**-=Fair=-**

It is a heavy question, weighed down by my conscience, my fears, my sense of self. I give it the respect it deserves, turning it over in my mind until I am sure.

"I am." He smiles at my words, and his acceptance frees me. "I'm… confused. It's just… it's never felt this way before. I've never met someone else that feels so… _right_." My voice is small by the end of my confession. "I mean, we've never even spoken before tonight."

"Maybe not," he allows quietly. "But I feel like I've known you as long as I've known myself."

**-=Sate=-**

We bare our souls verbally, questions and answers pouring from us without reservation. I tell him about Alice, about the utter shattering I felt at hurting her, how I couldn't live a lie.

He understands.

Everything, he understands.

Words give way to kisses, innocence dissolving as our lips part and tongues meet. It's nothing I haven't done before, but it's made new again by _him_.

I am relieved when he doesn't push for more, but not because I'm afraid. I want to kiss him again and again, taste his sweetness on my tongue until our intimacy settles into my bones.

**-=Mirror=-**

We settle onto the couch, our hands joined between us as he tells me about himself. He's a composer, creating jingles and theme songs during the day and his own ethereal music at night. He tells me he plays several instruments, but the violin is the one that plays him.

"I was lost," he murmurs. "My music just… it was missing something. Something vital. And then I saw you, standing out there…" He nods toward the frosted window. "And everything changed."

I smile with genuine excitement as I tell him about my novel, that it was the same for me.

**-=String=-**

"I was afraid to lose you… to lose what you do for my music. I've never felt pure inspiration, and it just seemed more important than…"

He breaks off, glancing down at our joined hands.

"But then you drew that heart. I worried that you were gone anyway _because_ I didn't say anything."

"I was afraid you'd hate me."

"How could I?"

"I don't know how this works, and…" I shrug. "But you were _my_ muse." He smiles, and I pluck up the courage to ask him to play.

His plaintive music fills the night as I watch… from inside.


	6. Summer Love for IngenueFic ExB

_**A/N:**__ This is for my dearest twin, __**IngenueFic**__. I am, as ever, late, and for that, I deeply apologize. You are probably the only one who will get the significance of this picture prompt and storyline, which is just as it should be. I hope you had a fantastic birthday, and that this little gift brings a smile to your face. I adore you, bb!_

_

* * *

_

**BPOV**

**Surprise**

"Bella?"

I straighten in surprise at the sound of that voice, perfection enhanced by the breathless way he says my name.

I turn to find him standing a lot closer than I expected, his usually chaotic hair plastered against his head and his lips, chapped and dried from salt and sun, smiling at me.

I wasn't even sure he knew my name.

"Some of us are having a bonfire tonight. Wanna come?"

"Oh," I said, as if I hadn't known anything about it. As if I'm not sure. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

The way he smiles makes me tingle.

**Play**

The flickering light plays on his wild hair, and I wish I could look away, but I can't. He catches my eye across the fire – again – and gives me a knowing grin.

I shift my eyes away, glancing at each of my fellow lifeguards in turn. This has been my dream job for years – a summer at the beach, being paid to soak up the sun and swim – but I hadn't counted on a group of friends like this.

At least, I _hope_ we'll be friends.

They're all so close, having grown up together.

I wonder if I'll fit in.

**Height**

Never.

Never would I have imagined myself _here_.

My breath catches as I look up into his eyes, the green faded into grayish silver in the moonlight.

_His eyes _are_ green, right?_

Of course they are. The questions are a distraction, a nervous impulse to protect my mind. I have every detail of his face memorized.

But how did I miss how tall he is?

His lips flicker and then soften into a smile as his warm hand cups my cheek. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

I can only nod.

**Fair**

My eyes are closed against the darkness, heightening all my other senses. I can smell the brine of the sea and of his skin, taste the sweetness of marshmallows on his tongue. His fingertips are rough where they rub at the base of my spine, just above my shorts.

He pulls away with a soft, satisfied moan. "I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I know I'm keeping you away from everyone else. I just can't get enough of you…"

I smile, pressing up on my toes. "I'm not complaining," I whisper.

He grins before lifting me from the ground, kissing me thoroughly.

**Taken**

He pulls away at last, taking my hand and leading me toward the bonfire. His fingers feel strong laced through mine. Safe.

He stops just before we can see everyone clearly. One of his arms encircles my waist as he brushes the hair from my face with his other hand.

"Bella, I know this is stupidly early. You can tell me to go to hell or…" He breaks off, swallowing hard, and I realize suddenly that he's nervous.

I can't help but smile as I reach up, caressing his cheek.

"I want to know you," he whispers. "Be with me?"


	7. All In for ahizelm's Birthday

**_A/N:_**_ Today is a very special woman's birthday - my ficwife, **ahizelm**! I wrote these drabbles for her based on prompts by **naelany** and a character that has been very special to Ang and I for a while now. These drabbles first went up on her birthday blog, but I wanted to publish them here as well. I hope you all enjoy them!_

To my dearest Ang -

I've missed you more than I can say these last few months. I know life has been crazy for both of us, but I just want you to know that I love you dearly and there's no one else I'd rather spam with random lyrics. You are the Jerry to my Layne (and you know what I say about them ;)). I hope you have an amazing birthday and that life just keeps getting better for you.

I wrote you a little something staring Jasper and our favorite Garrett - I'm sure you'll recognize him ;) Hope you enjoy!

Love and hugs,  
Jen

The story below is Jasper slash - stop reading if that bothers you :)

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**JPOV**

**Finals**

For a typical college guy, the feel of Rosalie's firm breasts pressed against his arm and her full lips murmuring into his ear would be enough to make him adjust himself.

For me, it's the message she brings.

"You know Garrett's free again…" she breathes.

"Fuck," I mutter in response.

Rose laughs quietly as she steps away, trailing her fingers along my arm just to taunt Emmett. She really shouldn't bother – she could have him whenever she wanted.

She grins at me wickedly before winding her way back through the crowd. Suddenly this little after-finals release is filled with possibilities.

**Party**

Music pumps through the speakers, vibrating me to the core. Exhilarating and enticing, it demands that my body move to its beat.

I catch sight of Garrett across the room, his eyes closed, arms raised. The devilish grin that flashes across his lips makes me lick my own, especially when he meets my gaze. He watches me as Jessica's hands roam his chest, and I'm pinned in place until Rosalie steps in front of me.

With one eyebrow raised pointedly, she says, "So are you going to just eye-fuck him all night, or are you going to actually _do_ something?"

**Break**

Sweating and laughing, I head to the kitchen for another beer. My slight buzz keeps the grin on my face, and I hop up onto the counter with my bottle in hand, enjoying the cool breeze blowing through the open back door. Seth immediately gets my attention, telling me some story that's incredibly hard to follow.

"Lookin' good out there, Whitlock." Garrett wanders in with a lazy grin. The way his eyes drift up my body makes me sit up straighter – which makes Seth snicker.

"Not so bad yourself." My voice slurs a little, and Seth's snicker becomes a snort.

**Shot**

Garrett peruses the liquor lining the counter and picks up a bottle before ambling over to me. He puts it down beside my thigh and then turns away.

I watch the movement of his shoulders as he reaches for three shot glasses and some lime wedges. He pours the tequila and hands a shot to both me and Seth, who downs his instantly and claps me on the back. He walks away without a word, leaving Garrett and me alone.

"Bottoms up," Garrett says with a wink that gives another meaning to the toast.

Tequila and lime purse my lips.

**Tease**

He leans closer, trailing his hand along my thigh. Distance seems fuzzy, but I'm intensely aware of his lips as he licks them, and they seem so unbelievably close.

"I know what you want," he murmurs. "I just might want it, too…"

My thoughts are shrouded in a haze of lust and alcohol, and it takes me just a little too long to decide how to answer. Before I can, he chuckles. "Your turn, Whitlock."

And then he's walking away, and I'm left studying the tattoo snaking up his neck.

"Damn it," I grumble, hopping down to go after him.

**Texas**

When I step through the doorway, the scene has changed. People are still dancing in the living room, but the dining room table is crowded with people – including Garrett.

Rosalie's shuffling a deck of cards, leaning against the table on her elbows in a manner that draws nearly every male eye in the room. She says, "Alright, boys, the game's Texas hold 'em, but let's make it a little interesting, shall we?"

She looks directly at me as she finishes, "Winner of each round chooses which article of clothing someone has to take off."

I grin, my frustration fading quickly.

**Cards**

A complicated set of rules is established, complete with shots and Truth or Dare, but I'm focused on only two things – my cards and the man across the table.

Rosalie wins the first hand; Emmett scowls as she makes Garrett take off his shirt, but I know her game. And I fucking appreciate it.

When the Jack of spades turns up on the river, I resist the urge to grin. I shift in my seat, studying the other players before glancing back down at my handful of spades. There's a flurry of betting and folding, leaving me pretty damn confident.

**Bold**

"Well, well," Rosalie says when she sees my cards. "Straight flush…" She studies the remaining hands and then turns to me with a grin. "Who's it gonna be, Jazzy-boy?"

I lick my lips, sitting back. I briefly consider asking one of the other guys to strip, just to fuck with Garrett, but then I remember that challenge in the kitchen. "Lose the pants, G."

His lips twitch, and I let my eyes roam his chest, taking in tattoos and pierced nipples on their way to his waist. He turns around, wiggling his ass and making us laugh.

Most of us.

**Expose**

"Fuck…" I breathe as I watch Garrett's jeans fall to the floor. He leans forward, holding onto the back of his chair as he kicks them off. Turning around, he runs his fingers through his hair, and I follow the motion before my eyes drift down.

And then I know it's true – what I've heard about Garrett and his piercings _all_ over. The thin material of his boxer briefs does very little to hide the barbell through the head of his cock.

Seth's knee bumps mine under the table, but I know I'm staring. I lift my eyes to Garrett's.

**Strip**

The game progresses with teasing taunts. Seth dares Rosalie to kiss Emmett – with the condition that Emmett can't respond at all. The poor man looks like he's going to burst, especially when it's compounded later by Alice straddling Bella's lap to kiss her on another dare.

Inhibitions are nonexistent, stripped away with each piece of discarded clothing.

When Rosalie wins her next hand, she turns to me with a mischievous grin, licking her lips. "Jazzy… let's see what's under those pants, shall we?"

I sigh at having to move but shrug and stand up, letting them fall to the floor.

**Chips**

It takes a minute for me to realize that everyone's staring and the room's gone quiet – then a second longer for me to look down and see why.

I chuckle. The sound of poker chips scattering makes me glance up. Garrett's wearing that same lazy grin as his eyes drift, tracing the lines of my body. When he finally reaches my eyes again, he says, "Don't believe in underwear, Whitlock?"

Snickers and the sound of girls whispering surround me. I just stare at Garrett. "Not tonight."

He gives me one more appraising, hungry look before turning to Rosalie. "Whose deal?"

**Drunk**

A contest of sorts develops between me and Garrett. I don't understand it enough to verbalize, but it's there in the bets and dares we make.

Seth seems intent on reminding me that Garrett and I have an audience, but other than him and Rosalie, the others seem oblivious. One by one, players begin to drop away, out of clothes and chips, but they hang around to watch, bringing the rest of us drinks.

I know I'm well past buzzed when Garrett wins another round and turns to me. "Truth or dare?" he challenges.

Intrigued, I answer, "Truth."

He smirks.

**Fold**

"Do you wanna find out what a pierced cock feels like tonight?"

Other than the bass from the living room, utter silence reigns.

Before I can answer, the room explodes.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_, Garrett."

"Tell me he said yes."

"I think that's it for me…"

Someone falls out of a chair laughing, but I don't look to see who. My eyes are locked on Garrett, who raises one eyebrow, the implications clear.

"Fucking hell. You're on your own, Jazz. Just… get a goddamn room, okay?" Seth slaps me on the shoulder and stands up, stumbling a little as he leaves.

**Succumb**

"Fuck yes," I answer finally.

A smile flits across Garrett's lips before he steps toward me. Bella squeaks and hops out of the way, but neither of us pays much attention. Somewhere on the edge of my consciousness, I realize just how awkward this should be – I'm wearing nothing but my socks, while Garrett's walking toward me in boxer briefs. We're both hard, ready, and completely focused on what's about to happen… with a couple dozen of our friends hovering around.

I don't give a fuck.

Apparently he doesn't either. When he reaches me, he pulls me close, kissing me.

**Up**

He pulls away much too soon, squeezing my ass and holding my hips against his. "Come on," he says gruffly. "My room."

I follow him blindly, catching my toe on the stairs and tripping. He turns around, chuckling when I grab his hips. As we walk down the hall past Rosalie's room, I can't help myself. I trace his waistband with my fingertips, dipping inside to caress hidden flesh.

He stops suddenly, his hand on the doorknob as he presses back against me. Turning his head, he kisses me hungrily before whispering, "You like that, huh? You'll get your chance…"

**Heat**

As soon as we're inside, he drops to his knees, pushing me against the wall. I reach out, trying to close the door, but I forget what I'm doing as soon as my cock is in the hot paradise of his mouth.

My head falls back against the wall with a thump, my hips thrusting automatically as he teases me with his teeth. It's so goddamn _good_ and I've been so fucking horny all night that it's all I can do to hold on.

His hands grip my thighs almost painfully as he works me over, leaving me muttering incoherently.

**Loose**

Both my hands are tangled in his blond hair, pulling and tugging while my toes curl against the floor. My shoulders press into the wall, my back arching as my hips drive into his welcoming mouth. I'm so close, and it's right _there_, and if he'd just-

"Oh fuck!" I cry out as he swallows hard, his tongue pressing against just the right spot. He hums contently, reaching up to stroke me through my blissful release.

I slump against the wall, my head hanging as my hands fall to my side. My muscles relax and my joints feel like Jell-O.

**Hand**

The world is dark when I feel Garrett's hand cupping my cheek. It takes me a moment to realize my eyes are closed. I leave them that way, humming quietly as we kiss. I can taste my own salty flavor on his tongue, but it just serves to remind me of exactly why we're here.

Fighting the fatigue that's heavy on my shoulders, I force my eyes open and push him away with a smile. He looks confused at first, but it fades as I guide him back toward his bed.

Just at the edge of it, he stops us.

**Flurry**

He grumbles, cursing under his breath as he tries to open his nightstand. He kicks off his underwear absently and rustles around in the drawer, searching as I sit on the edge of the bed.

I take a minute to study him in the light drifting in from somewhere. He's all hard lines and defined curves – fucking mouthwatering. Reaching out, I grab his hips. He takes a step toward me but never pauses in his work until I lean forward, licking slowly around the metal rod through his cock.

"Mmm…" he murmurs, one hand threading through my hair in encouragement.

**Hold**

He lets me lick and suck to my heart's content, growing impossibly harder as the barbell clicks against my teeth. When I taste bitter pre-cum and feel his hips rolling, I make myself stop. I pull away, stroking him instead as I look up at him.

He ducks his head, his lips capturing mine before whispering, "I'm gonna have to let you finish that someday…"

With a devilish grin, he shoves me back on the bed. I let myself fall, tucking my hands beneath my head as I watch him roll a condom down his length before tossing me lube.

**Brush**

Our hands collide as we prepare ourselves, slick with lube and more than ready. Garrett's body covers mine, our mouths meeting passionately as my knees spread around his hips.

"You ready for this?" he teases, smirking as he presses his head against my entrance.

I moan in answer, my eyes widening at the strange sensation of metal. My arms are wrapped around his waist, urging him forward, and as he enters me, I reach up, grabbing his shoulder.

"Holy shit," I whisper.

He laughs, a breathless sound that morphs into a groan. "Oh my… _fuck_, you're so fucking tight, Jasper…"

**Grind**

Our bodies move fluidly, hips rising and falling, flesh heating with delicious friction. I can't get enough of anything – the taste of his skin, the feel of muscle and sinew beneath my fingertips, the panting, grunting sound of his breathing.

The metal rod through his cock is unlike anything I've ever known, hitting me in such tantalizing places that I wish my body was capable of the release it so wants to chase.

I know I have to have him again.

His rhythm falters as he drives harder, faster, whispered words giving way to moans and curses before he stills.

**Deluge**

We're both weak and shaking when he finally pulls away. We chuckle softly in disbelief as he rolls to my side.

Flat on our backs, we stare at the ceiling in the weak light; then Garrett reaches across, pulling my arm until my head is on his chest. I kiss his throat and lift my head to find his lips.

We kiss languidly as he throws a blanket across our sweaty bodies. There's no conversation, no invitation, but it's understood.

I'm staying.

With one last, lingering kiss, I lower my head back to his shoulder and pass the fuck out.

**Flush**

The mattress shakes, waking me, and I groan. My head's fucking pounding and filled with cotton all at once.

"Rise and shine, sluts," Rosalie calls cheerfully.

My eyes are glued shut, but I pry them open to find her sitting on the edge of the bed. Garrett's arm is tight around my waist, and his fingers play along my stomach as he lifts himself to one elbow.

"Go the fuck away, Rosie," he mutters, brushing a kiss beneath my ear.

"Breakfast is ready," she answers, unperturbed. "And you're welcome."

"For what?" Garrett sounds bemused.

"For closing your door last night."

**Stay**

She closes it again as she leaves, and I shake my head, laughing and wincing.

"I need a new roommate," Garrett mutters. "Think I could sell her on the black market?"

Instead of answering, I roll onto my back, turning to face him.

"Morning," he murmurs with a smile.

"Morning." I can't help kissing him, hangover and morning breath and all.

When we part, he grins. "Truth or dare, Whitlock?"

"Truth."

His hand drifts down my side to my hip. "Do you wanna go out with me tonight?"

"No." He frowns at me, but I grin. "I wanna stay in."


	8. A Very Charlie Brown Valentine ExB

_**A/N:**__ This is a little piece I wrote for the __**Twilight No-Stress Love Fest**__ that was hosted by naelany and OnTheTurningAway back in February. The premise was simple – no contest, no prizes, just spreading fandom love through stories and pictures. Each contributor could choose any prompt or combination of prompts and write whatever came to him/her. This was the prompt I chose:_

Valentine's Day through the years - Kindergarten, middle school, high school - always the same. What if college finally makes the difference?

_Added to that was an offhanded comment from my delightful twin, who loves ExB and said, "__but i mean. truly. all you'd ever have to do is write me something for the word cheeky and i'd be smiles. Hahahahaha" I hope you like how "cheeky" came up, Mary!  
_

_This story is Edward and Bella, rated T – hope you enjoy it!_

_As always, I don't own Twilight. I just have fun playing with the characters._

* * *

_Beep! Beep! Be-!_

The sixth time my alarm went off, I smacked it with a grumble and rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling. A voice ranted dully in the back of my mind, cursing all things Valentine's Day and Hallmark.

And Edward Cullen.

Except I didn't mean the last, not really. I scrubbed sleep from my eyes and rolled over, groaning pitifully when I saw the green numbers on my clock.

_7:42._

_That asshole's lucky I love him._

If I didn't, there was no way in hell I'd be up this early on a Saturday. I sat up, sighing as I turned the alarm clock all the way off. I reached for the ponytail holder on my nightstand, throwing my hair into a messy bun on my way to the bathroom. Edward said he'd be over at 8:00, and I knew from fourteen years of experience that he wouldn't be a minute later.

The water was still cold when I hopped into the shower, making me shiver and cry out. There was nothing for it but to keep going, though, so I worked quickly, barely taking time to enjoy the clean ginger fragrance of the body wash that always relaxed me. I brushed my teeth, grumbling that I didn't have time to wash my hair, and then I was done.

I stepped out and dried off, bouncing on my toes as I tried to avoid the stream of air coming from the vent. Goosebumps broke out on my skin, and I'd barely tied my robe closed when my doorbell rang.

I froze. And then I peered out, checking my alarm clock.

_7:55._

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

I threw a quick glance in the mirror and shrugged. It wasn't like he hadn't seen me looking far worse. I danced on my tiptoes across the cold tile and exhaled in relief when my feet hit the carpet. When I reached the door, I looked through the peephole and laughed out loud, my annoyance fading quickly at the sight of the sad-looking teddy bear holding a box of candy hearts.

Pulling open the door, I crossed my arms over my chest, arching an eyebrow as I said, "Do you really think that's compensation enough for showing up here at this ungodly time on this unholiest of days?"

The bear dropped, only to be replaced by Edward's smiling face. "Oh, come on, Bells. Don't be like that."

He held the bear out toward me, but it was squished between us as he pulled me in for a hug. He kissed my forehead and then breezed by me. I took a half-step forward, struggling to catch my balance when he disappeared so quickly.

I tried to convince myself that I was muttering under my breath because he was so tactless and _not_ because the feel of his lips on my skin had been all too brief.

By the time I turned around and walked back into my apartment, he already had his coat thrown over the back of my couch and was rolling up his sleeves. He was all crooked smile and messy auburn hair and bright green eyes when he said, "You'll notice I didn't utter the dreaded phrase, but I wish you a happy day, anyway."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, glancing down at the bear in my hands. "Thanks," I mumbled, and then frowned. "Hey… where's my card?"

He widened his eyes in mock surprise and said, "You mean you want it?" From somewhere, a card materialized between his fingertips, the pink envelope covered with ghastly red hearts. I narrowed my eyes at him and stepped forward, but he jerked it away when I reached for it, giving me a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't want to sully your day with a mention of _love_."

For a second, I thought maybe I saw a flash of something in his eyes. Regret, I thought. But then it was gone, and I knew it for what it was – a pitiful projection of my own disappointment that he would never see me as anything other than the girl who'd been his best friend since Kindergarten.

As if he saw the conflicted emotions playing across my face, he took pity on me and held out the card. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bella," he said gruffly. His eyes held both apology and amusement at my grimace as I took it from him.

Before I could open it, he turned away and called, "I'm going to start the oven," as he walked into my kitchen.

I sighed, pulling my hair out of its bun and putting the ponytail holder around my wrist. I ran my fingers through my hair and stared at the ever-neat handwriting on the envelope.

_~ Isabella ~_

A smile flitted across my face as my fingers traced the letters. He never called me by my full name, and I saw it written in his meticulous script on only one occasion each year.

This day.

It was a throw-back to that first Valentine's Day, the one when we'd met. Our mothers were friends from work, and they'd decided when we were five that it would be fun for us to bake cookies together. Little did they know that that initial meeting would spark a friendship that would last well over a decade.

The first time I saw Edward, his hair was slicked down with a cowlick in the back, and he was carrying a little white envelope with "Isabella" written on the front. His mother was responsible for both the unfortunate hairstyle and the card, which turned out to be a _Peanuts_ one he'd painstakingly signed, "Edward."

"Damn it!" His curse drifted in from the kitchen on the clatter of pans. I snorted, shaking my head as I listened to the predictable mutterings about my lack of organization.

His outburst nudged me out of my memories, and I turned the envelope over, pulling it open. Two traditions had emerged from that day: first, we always baked cookies together, delivering them to a nursing home when we graduated and no longer needed them for school, and second, Edward always gave me a _Peanuts_ card addressed to Isabella.

Always.

Which is why I frowned down at Spongebob grinning up at me with hearts in his eyes and called out, "What the hell?" I stalked to the kitchen, sticking my head in to find him peering into the refrigerator. "What's this?" I demanded.

"What's what?" he asked absently, leaning closer and squinting before he said, "Ahh…" He emerged with eggs and took them to the counter without looking over at me.

"This." I walked over and leaned my hip against the counter, holding the card up in front of his face.

"Your card," he said calmly, but I saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched. "Is there a problem?"

I studied his face, tilting my head as I tried to read his reaction. I knew he was fucking with me. What I didn't know was… why? I was quiet for long enough that he finally looked up, his faint smile fading as he took in my expression.

"I couldn't find a Charlie Brown I liked this year," he murmured quietly, and I thought it was there again, just for a second. He turned away, going back to the refrigerator for something.

"Oh," I said stupidly, feeling heat on my cheeks. I knew I'd overreacted, and I wondered if he saw through me. I thought he did sometimes, but he never made any comment. Of course, he'd have to be blind not to see the way I felt about them.

Then again, Edward could be stubbornly obtuse when he chose to be, and I had a feeling this particular situation might be one of those times.

My apology died on my lips. I couldn't think of something to say that wouldn't just make my reaction worse, so I opened the card and ignored the pre-printed words in favor of the ones he'd added himself. Short, sweet, and to the point, he'd written:

_Bells,_

_You've been my sanity and my source of amusement for far too many years to count. You know, I hope, that you're my best friend and I love you._

_Love and all those mushy things you hate,_

_Eddie_

_P.S. Stop glaring at your card and go get dressed so you can help me bake._

I laughed out loud and smacked him with the card. He glanced over his shoulder, grinning at me before he winked. "I know you," he said simply, shrugging.

I swallowed against a sudden impulse and the lump in my throat and nodded. "I'll be right back," was my only answer.

Escaping to my bedroom, I closed the door and then leaned against it, breathing deeply. I'd had moments here and there over the last couple of years, flashes of just… _longing_. There was no other way to describe it. The one I'd just experienced in the kitchen was the strongest by far, though, and there'd been an instant where I'd nearly ruined it all. He'd been so close and smiling and relaxed, and I'd nearly kissed him.

_Thank fucking god you didn't, Swan._

"Seriously," I muttered under my breath, briefly wondering if I should be concerned that I was answering my own thoughts.

I pushed away from the door and looked down at the card in my hands, feeling both annoyance and fondness for the ridiculous yellow sponge gazing up at me adoringly. I started to toss the card on the dresser; it was truly what I intended, so I couldn't explain how it ended up propped on my nightstand.

Instead of pondering a question I could already answer, I turned my back on it and went to the dresser, where I pulled out clean underwear. I dressed mechanically, not really paying attention to what I put on. When I was finished, I went into the bathroom, where I spent a little more time brushing my hair back into a neat ponytail before coiling it into an actual bun. I looked a little like a librarian, but I didn't want it to get in the way while we were working.

Finally realizing that I was just stalling and leaving Edward with all the work, I went back into the kitchen. His back was to me as he watched over something in my stand mixer, and I felt a pang as I took in his broad shoulders and tapered waist. He was gorgeous from every angle – no doubt about that – but what really got me was how… _good_ he was. Yes, he had a black, sarcastic sense of humor and he loved to give people shit, but what twenty-year-old man got up at the fucking crack of dawn to bake cookies for the elderly? He was a walking contradiction – always had been – and it was one of the things I loved about him.

"So, you just gonna stand there staring at my ass all day, Swan?" The amusement in his voice made my cheeks flame, especially since I _had_ been staring at his ass.

"Like you have anything to look at." My voice wasn't nearly as sarcastic as I intended it to be, and I covered by walking toward him, picking up the bowl with the flour mixture sitting on the counter.

He bumped my hip with his as he turned off the mixer, lifting it so I could pour in some of the flour. When he started the mixer again, he turned to me and said, "So, what did you want to make besides the sugar cookies?"

"Chocolate chip, peanut butter cup, and those toffee ones?"

He nodded, grinning, and said, "I get the broken toffee ones."

I laughed, and just like that, we were back to normal again. The morning passed quickly, with batches of cookies cooling all over the place as others went into the oven. When the sugar cookies were ready, we broke out the decorations I'd bought, and our hands were soon covered in icing and sprinkles and edible glitter.

As we worked, we talked about classes and our friends, whatever random things happened to come up. Being with Edward was always so easy when I managed to forget how attracted I was to him – which was getting harder to do with each passing day. I'd begun to wonder if maybe we weren't going to be able to go on like we were. I didn't know if I could handle being _just_ his friend anymore, but I couldn't stand the thought of losing him because he wasn't interested in me, too.

Which left me exactly where I was – up to my elbows in flour and too chickenshit to make a move.

We were putting the finishing touches on some sugar cookie hearts when he laughed and reached over, brushing something from my nose.

"What?" I asked, my hand instantly replacing his.

He snickered and said, "Well, I was getting the icing off your nose, but that was obviously a waste of time. Don't worry. You look good in pink… like some washed out Rudolph."

I glowered at him, but he just gave me his best smile and held out a towel. I ignored it, going over to the sink instead to wash my hands. When I was finished, I wet a paper towel and used it to scrub off the offending icing as I surveyed my kitchen. Cookies were everywhere, in plates and bags and on cooling racks. We'd finished the dishes, though, so all we had left was to wrap the rest of the cookies, and we'd be ready to go.

I glanced at the microwave and was surprised to find it was after noon. "Hey, you want to get some food before we head over there?"

"Nah, I can't," Edward answered. I frowned at him, and he shrugged. "I've got a few things to do at home before we go."

"What things?"

His grin was amused as he tucked the towel over the stove handle. "Things. Stuff. Errands. You know."

I realized a beat too late that I was acting a little crazy. "Oh, right," I tried to cover as I cleared my throat. "Alright, so… do you want to meet there or..?"

"Don't be silly," he said. "I'll pick you up at 2:30, okay?"

"Yeah, sure…" My voice trailed off as he breezed by me, pausing to kiss my forehead. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I struggled not to touch him. I couldn't help closing my eyes, though, inhaling the fragrance of vanilla and sugar and Edward's cologne.

I followed a few steps behind as he walked toward my front door. He stopped to shrug into his coat, and he was straightening his collar when he glanced at me again. "Hey, Bells… do you want to go to a party with me tonight?" I frowned at him, but before I could answer, he continued, "Don't worry. It's not a Valentine's Day thing. Kinda the opposite actually."

"I don't know…" The thought of watching Edward dance and sometimes even dancing by him but never _with_ him made my chest ache dully.

He raised an eyebrow. "I know you don't have plans. I don't want you sitting here all alone tonight, and I promised the guys I'd go. So come with me. Please?"

It was the "please" that did it – it always was. He reserved it for special occasions when he knew I would be stubborn and he really wanted to get his way. He slipped it in before I could actually say no, which meant he never had to beg… not that he would have, anyway.

I grumbled. "Yeah, yeah…fine. Where are we going?"

"Just to Ben's," he answered with a grin, slipping his scarf around his neck. His eyes were dancing as he reached out, taking my elbow in one hand. He kissed my forehead again, and I imagined that his lips lingered a little longer than usual. "Wear your black jeans and that black turtleneck sweater your mom got you, okay?"

"What… why?"

Instead of answering, he just gave me an impish grin and said, "See you in a couple of hours."

He was out the door before I could formulate a response. I stood there, staring at the door with a front, as I tried to figure out what he was up to. It wasn't really unusual for him to invite me somewhere, but practically insisting – and then picking out clothes for me – was definitely not normal.

Unfortunately, no explanation came to mind, so I tried to forget about it as I went back into the kitchen to fix myself a quick lunch. The question kept creeping up, though, interrupting my thoughts as I tried to work on a paper for my American Studies class. I caught myself going into my bedroom more than once, staring down at the card Edward had given me as if it might contain the answer. It didn't, of course, and I finally gave up, putting my schoolwork away in favor of cleaning to pass the time.

A little before two o'clock, I decided to take another shower. I felt grungy from the housework and from baking all morning, and I knew it would likely be well after midnight before I returned home. I relaxed a little beneath the steaming water, and by the time I stepped out again, I felt mostly like myself again. I was looking forward to an afternoon with Edward, laughing and talking the way we always did.

At least, that was the story I told myself.

Fairy tales have a way of falling flat when thrust into the gaudy light of day, and the ones I fabricated for myself were no different. I could spend all day pretending that I was happy as Edward's best friend and that I didn't want more from him, but that didn't stop my pulse from speeding as 2:30 approached – and it certainly didn't stop my broad grin when I answered the door dressed in the requested black jeans and sweater.

"Excellent," was all he said as his eyes swept from my feet, clad in my black Doc Martens, all the way to my hair, freshly washed and dried. His eyes crinkled as he met my gaze. "You look happy," he added.

I rolled my eyes and turned away, biting my lip as I grabbed my jacket. His hands replaced mine, which fell uselessly by my sides before I slipped them into the sleeves. "Thanks," I murmured, my cheeks heating.

I couldn't face him, not feeling off-kilter the way I did, so I irritably pulled my hair out from under the collar of my coat as I walked toward the kitchen. He followed behind in silence, and together we shifted all the bags we'd packed to the boxes we had waiting. We carried him out to his car, and it wasn't until he was shrugging out of his coat and tossing it into his backseat that I let myself really look at him.

He was wearing a simple black henley that I'd given him. It fit him snugly, hugging his chest, and he had it tucked into his black jeans. I was too busy surreptitiously studying the way his jeans accentuated his legs to realize at first that he was dressed almost exactly like I was.

"Are we going to some emo funeral?" I asked dryly, nodding toward the black leather wristband he wore.

He laughed and shrugged. "Dress code."

When I arched an eyebrow, he winked. "Get in, Bells," he said. Once we were both seated in his car, he finally deigned to explain, at least in part. He told me we were going to an Anti-Valentine's Day party. Mike had recently broken up with Jessica – again – and Ben, who was always shy, had come up with a plan that didn't involve hearts and romance. Ben and I were kindred spirits in a lot of ways: we hated crowds, being the center of attention, and anything that required coordination.

As I listened to Edward describe a night filled with video games, horror movies, and hot wings, I actually started looking forward to the party. I felt a small twinge of regret that I wouldn't get the chance to watch Edward dance after all, but it was probably better this way. Besides, I never turned down a chance to kick his ass killing zombies.

At the nursing home, we spent a few hours passing out bags of cookies and talking to the residents. Several of them had no one else who visited them regularly, so we spent a little extra time in those rooms. Edward was a charmer with the ladies and had a knack for getting the men to talk. I found myself watching him unabashedly, and every time he caught my eye, he smiled.

And every time he smiled, my heart fluttered like some ridiculous, flightless bird trapped in my chest.

Throughout the afternoon, we didn't really talk directly to each other, focusing instead on everyone around us. By the time we walked back out of the nursing home, we were tired but happy. As we headed toward his car, I shivered, and Edward put his arm around my shoulders. "Thanks, Bells," he murmured as I felt his lips press against the crown of my head.

I stumbled, my toe catching on a nonexistent crack in the sidewalk, and he steadied me with a chuckle. I blushed, cursing my own lack of coordination at ruining what was potentially a sweet moment. His mood changed in a flash, and he joked with me as we drove across town.

We stopped at the diner near campus, where we ran into Mike and a few other friends of ours. They invited us to join them, of course, so yet another hour or so was passed without my getting a chance to talk to Edward. As I absorbed and overanalyzed my frustration at that fact, I realized what I'd already come to fear: my feelings for Edward had definitely changed beyond recognition.

To cover, I just ignored him. I talked to Mike and teased Seth, and I was completely miserable when Edward didn't seem to notice at all. I was torn between relief and annoyance when we all went our separate ways, splitting the check and heading to the cars. We were all meeting at Ben's, so I could've easily gotten a ride with someone else, but I walked beside Edward, giving him a smile when he opened my door.

He winked in return and waited for me to climb in before walking around the car and slipping into the driver's seat. He was quiet on the drive to Ben's house, humming along with the radio and tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. I frowned as I watched him, trying to figure out why he was nervous; he didn't fidget unless he was anxious about something.

I chewed my bottom lip, wondering if maybe he was interested in some girl who was going to be at the party. I remembered Mike mentioning a few, in particular a girl named Lauren who was in the economics class he shared with Edward. Turning my head, I gazed out the window, swallowing against the disappointment I felt as I imagined watching him in someone else's arms. He hadn't dated anyone in about half a year, and I had to admit that I'd gotten used to having him to myself. The thought of that changing left me feeling hollow.

When we pulled into Ben's driveway, he put the car in park and then we just sat there. After a minute, he reached over, squeezing my knee as he said, "You okay, Bells?"

I nodded quickly, glancing over to flash him a quick smile. "Perfect," I answered, praying he couldn't hear the lie in my voice. "Was just thinking…"

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to the right. He opened his mouth to speak and then sighed, closing it again. He nodded over my shoulder just as the door behind me suddenly opened.

Turning my head, I found Embry standing there grinning. He leaned in, hugging me before I could even get out of the car, and we were swept inside along with the rest of our friends. Despite the fact that everyone looked like they were in mourning, I was relieved to see that the black clothes were the only nod to the fact that it was Valentine's Day. Everything else in Ben's apartment was perfectly ordinary, down to the couches pushed against the walls and the tray tables scattered around for laptops and monitors.

People were spread around, eyes focused on the screens as they called out to each other with laughter and cursing. I followed Edward through the living room to the kitchen, where Emmett was chatting with Rosalie and Angela. I went to talk to them, leaning against the counter, and I was surprised when the fragrance of Edward's cologne wafted to me just before he settled against my side.

He reached behind me, his hand resting on the counter, and I could feel the heat from his side against my shoulder. I couldn't risk looking at him, knowing my face would give away the fitful hope I felt, so I kept my eyes on Emmett. I laughed when everyone else did, but I had no idea what the hell he was saying.

Finally, we broke apart, everyone going to computers or to find an empty corner to sit and talk. Edward pulled me toward the dining room, where I saw both his laptop and desktop computer set up on the dining room table. I looked at him at last, my eyes wide.

He shrugged and grinned. "Errands. You know."

"This is what you left to do?"

"Partially," he answered cryptically. I frowned at him, but he pretended not to notice. His smile never changed as he pulled out the chair in front of his laptop and held his hand toward me.

I stared for a moment until he wiggled his fingers, motioning me forward. "Thanks," I mumbled, praying my cheeks weren't flaming red the way they seemed to be. He helped me settle into the chair and pushed it forward before sitting beside me.

At first, I was intensely aware of him only a foot or so away. Something had shifted between us, something that I was afraid to name because I knew it could change everything. I felt his eyes on me from time to time, but we were soon roped into a massive _Black Ops_ battle that absorbed all my attention.

Here and there one of us took a brief break to stretch our legs or grab a drink. The hours passed more quickly than I anticipated, and I was somewhat surprised when Edward groaned beside me. I glanced over to see him arching his back and rolling his neck before he shook his head. In a silence that made the taunts of the rest of our friends seem that much louder, he reached out to turn off his computer, and then he turned to me.

Something about the way he licked his lips told me he was nervous. Again. I shifted my eyes back to the screen in front of me, only to find I'd died.

"Shit," I muttered, but before I could do anything else, Edward's hand covered mine.

"Ready to get out of here, Bells?" he asked softly.

My eyes met his, and my breathing grew shallower as I studied his face. There was something earnest and timid in his eyes, something I didn't think I'd ever seen there before, at least not when he was looking at me.

"Yeah, sure," I answered just as quietly. A smile flitted across his lips, and when I went to unplug his laptop, he stopped me.

"Leave it," he said. "I told Ben I'd pick it up tomorrow."

"What?" I asked, my voice incredulous. "You're going without your computer for a whole night?"

He chuckled. "It's pretty late already."

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to check the time. "What the hell? It's after midnight?"

"Yup," he answered with a grin in his voice. "Time for me to get you home."

When I looked at him curiously – we were known to stay at Ben's until well after three o'clock – he shrugged and muttered something nearly unintelligible about being tired. I didn't buy it for one second, but I didn't protest as we made our rounds through the house, saying goodbye to all the people we knew.

To my surprise, Rosalie hugged me while Emmett clapped Edward on the back. "Happy Valentine's Day, Bella," she murmured.

I patted her back awkwardly, whispering, "You, too."

Rosalie wasn't a bitch, exactly, but she usually wasn't far from it. We put up with her because Emmett loved her, though I'd never been able to figure that one out. Now, as she looked at me, her eyes were bright, and her smile looked… happy. Genuine.

_What the hell..?_

I wasn't given time to speculate, as Edward whisked me into my coat and out the door. The whole drive back to my apartment was filled with the same thumb-tapping tension as before, which was beginning to give me a headache. Pressure was building behind my eyes, but I couldn't tell if it was fatigue or the realization that I couldn't handle this uncertainty. I knew I had to be reading into every little thing Edward did, and I couldn't keep that up indefinitely. Something had to give.

With that thought, I recognized the stinging in my eyes for what it was: the struggle to contain unshed tears. I huffed and rolled my eyes, turning to look out the window. It was utterly ridiculous, the whole situation, especially since I told Edward everything… everything except this one massive, life-altering secret.

But how could I tell my best friend I was in love with him?

I was too caught up in my own spiral of self-loathing to realize we'd pulled up to my apartment complex. Edward cleared his throat, bringing me out of my thoughts, and when I looked over at him, his smile fell.

He reached out, not hesitating as he brushed the backs of his fingers along my cheek. "What's wrong, Bella?"

I scrubbed at my cheek, horrified to realize that the tears had spilled over after all. I shook my head but didn't speak. I didn't want to hear the choking mess that would be my voice just then.

One corner of his lips lifted into a sad smile as he let his hand fall onto the console between us. He opened his mouth, and I could tell he changed what he'd been about to say. "Come on. Let's go inside?"

I nodded, yanking the door handle at the same time I unbuckled my seat belt. I brushed the traitorous tears away again, taking a deep breath of the cool night air before I turned to face Edward with a watery smile.

He reached out, taking my hand the way he always did when I was upset. This time, he laced his fingers through mine even as he turned to close my car door. We walked quietly together toward my apartment, and I alternately wanted to sob and to cheer at the way his hand felt wrapped around mine. Innocent touches like this were common for us, but everything had taken on a deeper meaning, and I was scared as hell that I was the only one who felt it.

He let go of my hand to unlock my door with the key I'd given him the day I moved in. When we stepped inside, he helped me out of my coat, his hands heavy on my shoulders in a way that let me know he was thinking hard about something – of course, it wasn't hard to guess that he was probably wondering why the hell I was crying like a lunatic after playing video games with our friends.

When I turned to face him, he sighed and half-smiled, reaching up to caress my cheek again. "This wasn't how I planned to do this…" he breathed, though I wasn't sure I was supposed to hear the barely audible words.

He guided me to the couch and then sat down on the coffee table in front of me. His knees were spread to either side of mine, and he held both my hands the way he did when we had something serious to discuss. I watched him, too afraid to even ask, but I didn't have to wait long.

"Hey," he said, squeezing my hands, "relax, Bells. You look like you did that time you got caught cheating on that Math test."

"That was _one_ time!" My temper flared, what little control I had evaporating in the face of being reminded of one of my least proud moments.

Edward chuckled, squeezing my hands. "Relax," he repeated, softer this time. "I promise everything's okay." I tried to follow his advice, the tightness in my chest easing before he added, "I hope."

I refrained from rolling my eyes and demanding he just tell me already, though the words were on the tip of my tongue. His thumbs tapped on the backs of my hands, and then he stood up abruptly, rubbing his palms on his black jeans. "I'll be right back," he muttered.

I watched in confusion as he picked up his coat and carried it into the kitchen with him. I heard the refrigerator door opening and closing, followed by the clink of glasses. I cleared my throat, taking the few minutes he was gone to wipe my eyes and run my fingers through my hair.

Before I had decided how to act, he walked back in carrying my wooden tray. On it were two glasses – Coke for me and water for him. He'd balanced an envelope in between that seemed to draw my eye as he sat down across from me again and placed the tray on the coffee table beside him.

"Bella?"

"Hmm?" My eyes snapped back to his, and he smiled slightly as he took a deep breath.

"I need to tell you something. I really hope that…" He trailed off, shaking his head and muttering something I couldn't catch. I was dying to know those words, certain that they would clue me in on what he was thinking, but he continued on before I could ask. "You know how I sort of flipped when you dated that asshole James last year?"

I frowned in confusion even as I nodded. Of all the fears and hopes that had been racing through my mind, I had certainly never considered he'd want to talk about an ex-boyfriend of mine.

"I didn't hate him just because he's a jerk." After a brief pause, he added, "Even though he is."

We both gave identical fleeting smiles. Mine faded into uncertainty once more as I asked, "What do you mean?"

"I hated him because he wasn't me, Bella."

Silence fell over my apartment as I searched Edward's face, looking for some confirmation that I'd heard what I thought I had – and that it _meant_ what I thought it did. When I didn't say anything, Edward shifted and took both my hands again. I didn't pull away, and he glanced down, smiling at our hands before meeting my gaze.

"For… I don't even know how long now, I've felt… protective of you." He reached up, brushing hair back from my forehead and tucking it behind my ear. "I thought it was that best friend thing. You know, like a brother or whatever. But when I saw you with him, when I heard the way you talked about him and saw how he treated you, I realized what it was. I was jealous. Of James."

I swallowed, leaning forward a bit as I tried to will him to speak again. I was frozen, poised between hope and terror.

"Because he wasn't me," Edward repeated quietly. His eyes grew soft as he watched me, and I thought for a moment he might kiss me, but then he sat up straighter and reached to the side.

"What's this?" I asked when he handed me the envelope. My voice was gruff, hoarse from emotion and disuse, and I felt strangely disconnected, sort of like the way people describe those out of body experiences.

"Your real card," he answered with a smile in his voice and on his face.

He waited in silence as I opened the envelope and pulled the card out, only to be faced with Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin. "Happy Halloween?" I couldn't help laughing.

Edward chuckled and shrugged. "You hate Valentine's Day. It seemed… fitting."

"How did you get this?" I asked, my fingers tracing the image of Linus and his blanket standing beside Charlie Brown.

"I've known for a while," was Edward's cryptic answer.

I glanced at him and then looked back to the card in my hand. I didn't ask why he'd waited if he knew. How could I, when I'd waited, too?

When I opened the card, it was to find the inside covered in his neat script. I scanned the message, noticing different colors of ink – and different dates. And then I gasped, honest to God, teenage movie gasp with my hand covering my heart and everything, when I saw the final message crammed into the lower right corner.

_February 14_

_Bella,_

_I can't tell you how scared I've been to admit this to you, but I can't wait any longer. You're everything to me, and I want to be everything to you. I know how you feel about Valentine's Day, so I waited until it was over, but I don't want to spend another one without you. Will you be mine?_

_I love you,_

_Eddie_

Tears stung my eyes again, and I swallowed against the lump in my throat, torn between reading all the other messages he'd written for me and tossing the card aside to look up at him. He squeezed my hand and murmured, "Say something, Bells, please."

The anxiety in his voice took the decision from my hands, and the card fell to the ground as I looked up. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then everything happened at once. I don't know which of us moved – maybe we both did – but his arm wound around my shoulders as his other hand cupped my cheek. My arms were around him, holding him close as I slid toward him. His eyes were intense and searching, and then he smiled, as if in response to an unspoken answer.

He tilted his head, and his lips found mine in a soft, sweet kiss. I exhaled in relief and longing, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer still. His lips parted then, his tongue brushing mine tentatively, and my response was automatic and eager. For so long, I'd wanted him this way and wanted to know that he felt the same. My body felt as if it were vibrating, shocked by the knowledge that Edward saw me as more than just his old friend Bella.

At long last, we had to pull away, questions overruling passion. Edward's forehead was pressed against mine, his lips curved into a smile as he caressed my cheek. "I know this is a stupid question," he murmured, "but _please_ tell me that's a yes…"

"Of course it is," I whispered, laughing as I kissed him again. "I want everything with you. I've known it for a while, too."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ naelany is once again hosting the __**No Stress Love Fest**__! If you think you'd be interested in participating – or just want to read some great stories when they post – check out http:/twi-love-fest(dot)livejournal(dot)com/_


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